Lotos' Journal
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Welcome to your life December 18th 2016, 11:00 am
I'm not just branded with the cross, I'm branded with the acceptance of what I've done. I know what you're thinking... Why all the regret, why all the self-aggression if I'm so accepting of my actions? I accept what was done with my body... I'm not happy about it. I want to move on. I want to believe no demon ever existed. My life was stolen from me and now I have a chance to reclaim it. I've been sowing the seeds of renewal. I would leave. I'd run, on foot, miles and miles away from here. I stay out of love and gratitude. These two things I've only ever known from one person. They are reciprocated, for the first time. I know that everything I think and feel is real now. I am myself. I'm... Undivided.
My name is Lotos. That's my only name.
I'm going to speak to my betrothed about taking a break. After what we've both been through, I think we could use one. In which case, during that time, I'm going to look for my father. Or, the man who should've been my father. I'll follow up on his location, sift through some old contacts and find out if he's even still alive. He doesn't deserve my forgiveness. I just... I want to know what he was thinking. I want to know what happened at the moment of my birth. I'd like, more than anything I think, to know why he cost both my mother and I our lives. Did he, does he, hate me? Us?
I wonder what he'd think of Leviticus. I'm going to be married, I want to make sure of it. I want to enjoy this life. Now that I have the opportunity. I'd like to have a family. Even if that means finding the one that abandoned me, before I even had a chance to hurt them. I've heard that everyone deserves a second chance. Not from anyone I know, mind you. I've been thinking about it, though. Lately... I've been thinking about it a lot.
I've been smoking again, recently. More often than I used to, but... I wouldn't say I'm addicted. I hope not. I suppose it's going to affect me now. Drinking, too. I can't do with worrying about all that shit... I don't need the concerns or commiserations of others. I avoid people-- whenever and wherever. I watch my back. My appearance has suffered in way of clothing, because most of my clothes are too fitted to accommodate my injuries. I've been wearing clothes taken from my lover's victims. Anything loose or soft or black, so that the dirt from the garden won't show too much. What am I? A broken, ragged man. An antisocial hippie.
And you know what else? I've an appetite now. I'm starving. I've been impulsively eating anything and everything... Leftovers, paper, roadkill, plants-- even dirt. I can't help myself. It's kind of hilarious, and I'm worried Levi is going to catch me gnawing on the upholstery... Fortunately, the sleeve of my leather jacket withstands the wrath of my hungry maw. I was never a baby, not really. Perhaps a part of me is making up for that lost time.
No house is a home. The only home I know is my garden in the middle of the house, beneath the open sky where the tops of the trees wave at me, waving over the manor roof. They're almost beckoning me, inviting me into the forest. My other home, where my heart and soul lies, is with Leviticus. I whistle or hum when I'm gardening, or put on a record. I hope it brings him comfort... Knowing where I am. Knowing I'm okay.
Well, I am okay. It would be ungrateful and bitter of me to say that I wasn't. I've got one new eye to see the world with. I can love with all of me, and I don't have to hide anymore. At least, I don't want to. I don't feel like I deserve forgiveness or compassion. Leviticus and I have been through this before... I know, as far as he's concerned, it's okay. I don't need either of those things to live. To survive, perhaps. Right now, though (as far as survival is concerned), I just need some Goddamn food...
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