Hot Blooded
an excerpt

But… then what do I do? I’ve got my blood pumping – figuratively speaking. I’ve spun in circles and wind - milled my arms and shaken my groove thing. And now I’m bored again. I suppose I was warned about this: that the curse of immortality is the wish for mortality, and vice – a versa. The curse is boredom, and loneliness. For some reason, the fact that I am almost always bored and lonely seems to make no difference; the fact that I will probably be bored and lonely for hundreds of years, well, that’s a bit harder to take.

I guess the real question is, what do people do all day? Yeah, I’ve never been good at that one. Hence the bored and lonely, the anti – sociality, the introverted - ness, and, oh, god, the writing. Normal people, you see, do not write; they do not sit around for hours at a time in front of a computer and talk to imaginary people. Do they? Do they try to escape? Oh, I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like something that I would want to think about right now, either, with my heart racing – figuratively speaking – and the whole night ahead of me just waiting for me to get excited about it. If only I could.