So from time to time I’m going to be posting these journal entries. They’re just things I’ve jotted down to get into my characters’ heads while trying to plan scenes, and they won’t always be from the same person’s perspective. They will probably be from Julian’s point of view most of the time, as he is my main character, but they could be from anyone else in the story. This one is the first of many, and is from Julian.
*WARNING: Details in these entries are subject to change depending on how the finished story turns out! Don’t get too attached.
June 5th, 2536 BC
I feel like my entire existence is for the pleasure of the angels. Do this, do that, bend over. Nothing I do is for myself, nothing is for me or my well-being. It’s all for them. Every decision, every move, every word. It’s like the years of training really were all for them. To make me their slave, their possession. Just yesterday I was dealing with more torture from Michael, and I’m not sure how I can handle it for my entire term. I’m not sure he will ever leave me alone even after my three hundred years are up.
He seems to derive too much pleasure from it all. Like it’s the only thing that will get him off or give him any pleasure. I feel sorry for him. I really wish he had someone who cared about him who he would actually accept. I wish I could have been that for him, that I could have actually made him smile like he meant it, like he was really genuinely happy and it was because of me. Not because he enjoyed the pain so much, but because I actually made him happy.
I don’t understand what that urge is, why it feels so important to me to want him happy. I don’t understand how I could love him with how he’s treated me, but he has this strange draw, and he’s so innocent when he sleeps. When he sleeps and when he lets his guard down, he’s a completely different person, and that person is so intriguing and infatuating that I can’t help but yearn for those few fleeting moments when I can see him. The man he’s hiding, the man I know he can be. I just wish he would let that part of him have control more often. Even if I can’t make him happy, I see how he looks at Phoenix, and I know that of anyone, that’s who could help. Phoenix has this strange power over Michael, and I can see it when I see their eyes meet. Michael falters slightly, as though he wants to give in and be who I know he can be, but then he catches himself as if that person is not welcome. It’s… heartbreaking…