vampir Blut

From Anonym


After my experience I tried to write down my thoughts, which were circling around it, for a certain person. Therefore the text is addressed to this person.


What can I say… I like to talk, but probably more when it comes to everyday life or funny things. But here it is different, because it is so new for me, so untouched by all the bad things that had been put over my feelings. Until now.

It was a Saturday and I was on my way to you. Slightly relaxed, because I had been able to spend a few days with my brother before. These carefree days were rare since we lived so far away from each other and relaxation as such was not particularly a talent of mine. On the long way home “you” were now entered as the next destination in my navigation system.

We had already had a few months to get to know each other by studying together for university. You for your course of studies, me for mine. Because of the distance very contemporary via zoom and almost daily. Since we got along so well in the meantime, you couldn’t be missing on my route through this federal state. I looked at the temperature display of my car, it was hotter than it had been for a long time. That was really exhausting. But the thoughts that were spreading inside me about our upcoming days only made me feel this tingling nervousness that slowly put a gentle goose bump over my arms. It felt good. I had been working on this topic for over a year now. I had read, talked, written. Vampyrism had become an integral part of my catalog of thoughts. It already had a permanent room in my inner house,  so to say. But only for rent. Because secretly I cherished a small hope that the thirst would cease and that after this experience I would recognize his insanity, like a soap bubble that looks beautiful, but which will soon be gone again. Because that would have been the easiest thing to do. For my Protestant faith, for my strict family and for … my life? Who knows.

So I wanted to know. Nevertheless, I only assumed that I would donate this weekend. I was looking forward to it in a way I could not explain. I didn’t have enough energy right now, but I wanted to understand both sides of the coin and did what was necessary. I thought. And arrived.

There you stood before me. The discomfort of the first few minutes was gone quickly and we found topics of conversation. You showed me your home and we spent a nice day together in the big city. Many funny and beautiful events confirmed our sympathy for each other. It felt good to realize that. Someone who was so similar to me and yet so different. It was beautiful. Vaguely I began to enjoy this feeling and began to trust. I was relieved that apparently everything you told me about yourself was true.

In the evening the situation was crystal clear. We wanted to dare. I… wanted to dare, for you this was nothing new anymore. Nevertheless, you felt this moment as an honor, which at first I was very surprised about. Shouldn’t I rather consider it an honor to be initiated into your knowledge? Well, at least we had a mutually respectful point of view, which gave the whole project a sense of anticipation.

I thought a shower might tame my nervousness a little… I was wrong. So I sat down on your sofa and took a deep breath. You had already brought out a few utensils that we had discussed weeks ago. So in this new situation everything still seemed familiar to me. I had had enough time to get used to the idea that a blade would cut into my skin or yours for an effective reason, not for the purpose of self-harm.

You said something that touched me deeply: You wanted to donate to me first because I was more important right now. That was more respect for this situation than I thought I could stand. It felt good.

You chose a spot on your body and slowly cut it open. Those few seconds lasted an eternity for me. My nervousness overturned as well as the doubts that arose in me: What if I have to run to the toilet and throw up? How disrespectful and unpleasant that would be… What if my circulation goes bye-bye? What if I realize that it’s just disgusting, as disgusting as one should feel about it? Or the worst fear: What if I wake up tomorrow and it was good; and then I feel a never before felt guilty about my faith, for which I had sought justification for so long. Then I would need something that I could not afford.

The thoughts flew out of my head with one look. It was the moment when you gave me your arm and looked at me encouragingly. Friendly and connected. Your arm. The blood.

It looked so beautiful. How it began to run from your cut, forming fine beads on the outer edge of the fine line. I took your arm in my hands, as if you were now leaving it to me. Never before had the desire to drink felt as strong as it did right now. Nevertheless, I hesitated for a moment because of the devotion that came up in me. A feeling of honor. Then I began to drink very slowly and timidly. The moment when I tasted your blood in my mouth was by far the most satisfying moment I could wish for in this situation. My whole body became warm and reacted to the situation, and with each additional sip the feeling of unbridled freedom and joy continued to sweep me away. I felt a little tipsy but very clear. At the same time, the feeling of closeness never experienced in this way pulled me back into your room and seemed to connect us. I tried to categorize this closeness when I paused briefly. This was not a closeness from a marriage, this was not a closeness from a friendship, but something completely new, something indefinable, if not experienced by oneself. Once again I took a deep breath. This time not to escape the tension, but to feel lightness, which seemed to ground me in a paradoxical way and let me fall into a peace. In peace. In serenity. I was serene, even though I was not used to relaxation. It was astonishingly beautiful. Uplifting. As if this feeling ensured that I stayed with myself, formed a unity with myself and was finally enough for me. A missing element in the picture was inserted.

You asked me how I was feeling and all I said was: “Right. I feel right.” That was probably an attempt to verbalize that I felt more like myself than I had ever felt in my life. That was right for me. Not being a passenger in my life and watching my life drive away from me. But to be the driver myself. Not to sleep anymore. But to be awake. To be awaken.

“And I can hear just fine,” I added. You explained to me that this could be true and I received some other information. Always well dosed, as an intermediate course, if you like.

I fell into your arms. I felt like I was coming home. As if I had just been away for a long time and was now back again. Like an old woman remembering the past. You felt the same happiness. My satisfied smile was hard to get off my face.

There was so much more emotion, so many thoughts in this situation. But these are our memories.

You showed me a path that night that led me to myself. Which gives my feet a secure footing. That gives my heart a direction. And which gives my head clarity.

And I thank you for that.