Vampire interior monologue

There was a slight crimson stain left on his lips when he returned to his home after the hunt. He, the fiend. The term Vampire had become so hackneyed. People often don't understand the strength it takes to do daily what he must. Often liking to think of himself as a dark god of sorts, perhaps to put reason to his rhyme.
He had feasted that night...In a manner of speaking. He had fed, this was true. But, it was on the foulest of creatures. His damnation was that of the worst kind. It was a damnation of want. He was eternally thirsting, but even when he drank this constant ravaging thirst was not quenched. For, you see, his own morality would not let him destroy those undeserving. He was forever cursed to feed on thieves, rapists, murderers. The foulest scum of the earth. Those whose blood was made bitter and thin by years of sin. How he hungered for sweeter meats. Just once in all his endless years he would like to feed and be filled. To just once know the feeling of having to hunt and kill. To just be content was his wish. But for one such as himself, the damnedest creatures, it was not their fate to be satisfied. He was cursed and tormented time and again. He wanted to feel and to think the way those foul people take for granted so. He wished, as he had for hundreds of years, that he had not made the decision. Wished that he had chosen death over damnation. That he had not taken this curse, this ungodly gift, out of his own vain attempts to cheat death and the creator. But of course, he realizes coming to his senses, that wishing is the way of those who cannot have.
And hoping is the way of those who have none. He will always find himself hoping it's a dream. He will always hope and wish and dream to be mortal. Yet, he is taunted everyday by their presence. Perhaps that is why he kills the worst of them. To show those pretentious bastards that they wre squandering this great gift they have. Death and a place in Paradise should they wish it. Then again, they do not know that which is only known by one such as I. That death, be it horrifying to you, is the greatest gift that he, the one some of you don't believe exists, has given you. For it is a new start. But so much more. It is an escape. An escape from the monotony of living the same thing day after day, week after week, month after month, and year after accursed year. They build up and the days and weeks run together. You forget things you wish you'd remembered. All because it's the same over and over and over. Like a movie set to repeat, it never changes. Nothing ever changes. And, it is all because of that damn choice. The choice that seems so right at the time. That damn choice given by one who tells only one side. The one who tells of immortality and god-like power but fails to mention when you feed but are hungered. Where you sleep but do not rest. Where you touch but do not feel. This is the life of one such as I. I have told all I can.

Now, what is your choice?