Guilt, guilt, guilt.

Paul joined us for coffee at Schezade's today. Grudgingly I must admit he does seem to be a nice guy. Funny, too. I watched him very carefully and if he even so much as glances at Julie's neck, I would have jumped all over him. But he didn't. He looked into her eyes every time. What a model boyfriend. Eurrrgh. He works days at a coffeehouse and nights at the Darla Bar and, according to Julie, is taking a break between college semesters to decide what he truly wants to do. Or so he says! For all we know, he could be a million years old. Note to self: must corner Paul and demand to know his entire history. Can't let Julie date vampires with an unknown record. Gawd, I feel more and more guilty about this every day. I want to tell her, but I can't without giving myself away as well!
And they're really piling us on with assignments at college. Since I will never die, do I really need a college degree? Am thinking more and more about dropping out. But if I'm going to live forever, I would like to live in luxury. Maybe I should become a rock star or something.