---

When I became a therapist, I expected my clients to be the usual brand of messed up—childhood trauma, commitment issues, existential dread. You know, normal stuff.

What I didn’t expect was Dracula.

Yes. That Dracula. The guy who started the whole vampire craze before it got hijacked by Hollywood and turned into a sparkly emo fantasy.

And let me tell you something—he is NOT happy about it.

Session Begins

Dracula enters my office like he’s stepping into a medieval castle. Tall, imposing, and dressed like someone who hasn’t updated his wardrobe in several centuries. His black cape billows dramatically, despite the lack of wind indoors.

I barely resist the urge to ask if he installed a personal fan under his robes.

“Welcome, Mr. Dracula.”

“Count.”

“Oh. My bad. Welcome, Count Dracula.”

He nods approvingly and takes a seat on my couch. I can already tell he’s judging the furniture.

“So, what brings you to therapy today?” I ask, grabbing my notepad.

Dracula lets out a sigh so dramatic it could win an Oscar.

“I am weary of this eternal existence, Doctor.”

Oh boy.

“Tell me more,” I say, in my best professional voice.

“Mortality is a fleeting gift, one I am forever denied. The world has changed beyond recognition! The people, the culture, the—” He pauses, and his face twists into a look of absolute disgust. “The...food.”

I blink. “The food?”

“Everything is fast! Fast food, fast living, fast love! It is all...rushed. Where is the art? The elegance? The slow and poetic dance of the hunt? In my day, one did not simply ‘slide into the DMs’ of a maiden! There were rules! Rituals! A well-crafted sonnet!”

I stare. “So...your biggest issue with modern life is that dating isn’t dramatic enough?”

Dracula folds his arms. “Partially. Also, blood tastes like processed garbage now. Too many preservatives.”

I write that down. Vampire struggling with 21st-century dating + food quality crisis. Possible foodie.

“So, Count, are you saying you feel...out of place?”

He nods gravely. “Yes. I am a relic of a forgotten time, lost in this...horrible neon age.”

I lean back in my chair. “Have you tried adapting?”

Dracula scoffs. “I attempted to modernize once. The result was a most horrifying abomination.”

“What happened?”

His expression darkens. He leans forward, voice a haunted whisper.

“I...joined TikTok.”

Silence.

I press my lips together to keep from laughing. “How did that go?”

“They called me ‘Cringe.’”

I fail to keep a straight face. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes! I, Dracula, Lord of the Night, was reduced to a meme! They compared me to some creature called...‘Morbius.’”

“Ohhh,” I wince. “Yeah, that’s rough, buddy.”

“And then! They said I was not even the ‘hottest’ vampire! That accursed Twilight film has ruined my legacy! I have spent centuries perfecting the art of seduction, and yet they swoon over...him.”

I nod sympathetically. “Robert Pattinson?”

Dracula hisses.

---

Official Therapist Notes – Patient File #001

Name: Count Dracula

Age: At least 500, but emotionally? Stuck in 1432.

Symptoms: Existential dread, cultural dissonance, outdated courting methods, deep-seated resentment toward modern vampires.

Treatment Plan:

1. Encourage hobbies—possibly culinary exploration (though we need to clarify what he means by “cooking”).

2. Introduce him to Bridgerton—it might soothe his longing for old-fashioned romance.

3. Avoid mentioning Robert Pattinson. At all costs.

---

As Dracula leaves my office, he pauses at the door. “Tell me, Doctor, do you believe one can find purpose again, even after centuries of wandering the night?”

I offer him a small smile. “I think anyone can find purpose. Even if it means reinventing yourself a little.”

He nods slowly, cape billowing once more. “Then perhaps...I shall try.”

As he disappears into the night, I sigh and collapse onto my desk.

First a vampire with an identity crisis. What’s next?

My phone buzzes with a new appointment.