Hello, It's me again.

Before leaving the lab this morning, Arthur encouraged me to keep writing in this book. He said that maybe I wouldn't find any answers about my past in it, but I can at least find myself in reflecting upon my thoughts, and being honest with my emotions. He said that I could discover who I was, or discover a new me, a me past me didn't even know existed, or tried to repress for some introverted reason. I don't really have much else to do, so I'll stick to that suggestion and try to make sense of my surroundings by writing my thoughts down. That way I can at least back track and see what progress I made in the unfortunate scenario that I wake up and forget everything AGAIN.

It's a shame that I don't have any other pages to read, so I'm starting fresh from 0.

Right now it's night time, and I'm "home". Or what used to be a home to me. Today I see it as a very big house, full of someone else's memories and treasures, full of people that seem wary of me, afraid of how to interact with me and perhaps scared of who I am now. And I'm sitting on a bed that I've never sat on before, yet in the sheets I feel my own scent, mixed with that of another.

I arrived this morning with only this book in my hand. Arthur walked with me and reassured me that everything would be okay, and these people are people I would be safe with. He knocked on the door, I held my breath, and within seconds he was being greeted by a short blond man, who seemed to be in his twenties. The man's purple eyes locked with mine, and his previously cheery and welcoming smile turned into a sorrowful one, one that did not seem to fit with his character (Not that I know, but I have a gut feeling)

Arthur told me to wait outside for a few seconds, as he entered the house. I could hear sniffles and a very muted conversation, voices from people inside the house, and footsteps walking in the opposite direction. Some sort of confrontation, a sad and angry dispute, and then the door opening again. Now, there were 2 new faces looking at me from the inside.

My face was probably that of a concerned person (Which I was), and so Arthur pulled me aside to speak to me privately.

He told me they are my family. People that have seen me grow, whom I've argued with, laughed with, cried with. They were made aware of "what happened" to me, fact that is unknown to even me, and told they would be receiving frequent calls from him and the other man in the lab to verify if I was doing alright, or if I was making any progress in getting my memory back. I have discovered I am an intuitive person, because I think there's more behind their previous conversation. There's something wrong. There is something so terribly wrong, just based on their faces, their tears, the horror of seeing my unrecognizing eyes. I feel like its an appropriate reaction to discovering your family member lost all memories of you, but the nature of this issue is almost sinister. Of course, this is all but an assumption. I hope to have answers soon.

Continuing with today's events, I was now standing in front of my family. I looked at each and every one of their faces, the way they dressed, the expressions on their faces. There was a taller man with glasses, who looked so, so serious. I actually thought for a second he was going to emerge from the house and beat me to a pulp. The smaller one must've realized this, as he elbowed the serious one in the ribs, receiving a small complaint in form of a mumble. I couldn't make out any words, but his demeanor quickly changed, instead choosing to wear a very small smile, almost shy, mostly sad. Which was still somehow intimidating, if I'm being sincere.

The small one seems to have a calming effect on the tall one. His face, although sad, shows kindness and understanding.

And behind them, there was a young one. He was staring at me with bright purple eyes, unblinking. It's only when I stared back that he broke his gaze and looked away, in what I assume was shyness. He seemed to be looking for something in me, or in my eyes, but he didn't find it. He seemed disappointed, and quite honestly it seemed like he was going to cry.

They looked so broken when they first saw me. I wonder if I hurt them before. I wonder if they even like me at all. I wonder who I was to them.

They present themselves. They told me their nationalities first. I don't entirely understand what that was all about, but Arthur was quick to correct them.

Tino. Berwald. Emil. Those are their names, and they mean nothing to me.

I don't know my relation to them. Are they my brothers? My cousins? Am I married to one of them? Or all of them? Maybe family is just a term we use, and we're just a group of good friends living together. Arthur refused to answer any of my questions. He wants me to discover this all by myself. He gave me his number and left me with my family.

I don't think I have a phone, but the gesture is appreciated.

None of us said a word as Arthur walked down the driveway, even after a few minutes passed. Tino was the first one to break the ice and welcome me inside. Berwald and Emil said nothing the entire time, and refused to speak to me for rest of the day.

They probably hate me. And it hurts, for some reason, that two complete strangers hate who I was, because I
can't even apologize for it, I don't remember any of it. At least Tino was kind, I dont think he hates me. Or if he does, he hides it very well.

He showed me to my room, and pointed out that I had decorated it. Everything in there was mine, and thus I could rearrange to my liking, or grab anything without any type of permission. But honestly, I don't feel like interacting with any object yet. I want to respect past me and their strange desire to collect paintings of very old boats.

Tino asked if I wanted something, any beverage, any food. I lied and said no. It was honestly embarrassing to admit that I didn't know what I wanted, or what I liked. I would rather starve than keep disappointing these people. During the trip to my room, Tino kept asking if I remembered the house, if I remembered the carpet, if I remembered them, if I remembered what day it was or anything about myself, and with each no, I could see a part of him shrivel up and die.

I've stayed locked in my room since.

A part of me wants to get to know these people and hopefully grow fond of them like I did before, but it's hard when all I sense is... this feeling of rejection, like I am not the Lukas they knew. I'm somebody else now, and I don't belong here.

I can't help but cry a little. Sorry.

Tomorrow will be a new day, hopefully not as awful.

- Somebody.

P.S: Tino brought me some food a few hours after I set the pen down. It was the most delicious thing I have ever eaten. I have hopes that tomorrow will be a better day.