Hey there, dear readers.
First of all, thank you. For the comments, the likes, the ideas, and for simply being here. I truly mean it when I say, I am grateful.
I need to be honest with you. I am not satisfied with how the story is going. This was supposed to be a small, silly project, as I said in the description. What I meant by that was two things.
First, I wanted to experiment. To write without a strict plan, to see where the protagonist would lead the story, to let my subconscious decide what he would say and do. That part worked out better than I expected. And I wanted to focus on the characters rather than creating another power fantasy fanfic. Nothing wrong with those, I enjoy reading them myself, but this one was meant to carry something different. I wanted it to inspire HOPE. That even in the cruelest and most uncertain times, people can still be kind to each other, and still choose mercy. To try, even against all odds, to forgive the unforgivable.
The second part is more personal. I was raised in a conservative Christian family. Religion has been a big part of my life, whether I wanted it to be or not. And I want to make this clear: your faith, your beliefs, whatever they are, are no less important than mine. You have every right to believe in whatever makes your heart feel safe and sound. I respect and love you for it. But growing up in my family also came with a lot of contradictions. As much as I love them, they can be… for lack of a better word, hurtful. Saying things to each other, or to strangers, that are subtly or blantly homophobic or xenophobic. And that made me resent God for a long long time. I know it sounds childish, maybe even outright petty, but I couldn't help it.
How can someone claim to love their neighbor, then turn around and judge them for who they are or how they live? It felt hypocritical.
That being said, I love Jesus. I really do. I don't know every word by heart, but the ones I do know inspire me to try and be a better person, despite all my flaws. They give me hope. I just wish more people could see the compassion in his words instead of using them as excuses to carry hatred in their hearts.
Now, despite the title of this fanfic, having the word LAZARUS, I never wanted to bring my personal struggles into the story. The name came from John 11, where Jesus calls Lazarus back from the grave. "Lazarus, come forth." That moment of hope, of being giving a second chance—that's what I wanted the name to symbolize. I only wanted to write something fun, something that might inspire someone out there to be a little kinder, even if just for a moment.
But I slipped. I let my bitterness bleed through the chapters. I let my anger at the world creep into the story. The truth is, the world feels unbearably cruel sometimes. There is segregation, racism, endless political division, and people in power who profit from the suffering of others. What makes me the most bitter is seeing companies spitting on the working class, exploiting farmers—the very backbone of civilization. Suing them for reusing seeds. Bioengineered seeds that die after one harvest just so profit is guaranteed. That isn't just cruel. It's soulless. It's crushing. And when I think about it too much, I become angry and exhausted at the same time.
But here's the thing, when that anger builds up, I find I cannot act on it in the way the world seems to demand. I can't let myself turn to cruelty or violence, even when I want to lash out. I keep holding on to this stubborn, fragile hope that things can be fixed with dialogue, compassion and mercy. Maybe that makes me pathetic. Maybe that makes me naïve. But it's who I am.
That's why I'm taking a hiatus to rework the story. I don't want this space to become a place where I just pour out anger. Even though it's okay to feel that way, everyone has the right to be angry at the injustice of the world. But I can't and won't allow myself to turn this into just a violence fest. I want it to return to what I intended the story to be from the very beginning.
A story about mistakes and lackings—about how we let them dictate and shape us, about how they whisper to us in our worst moments—but also about how we can forgive ourselves for them, as to not stay trapped in the guilt, the fear or shame.
A story about the fear of change, because yes, most of us fear that admitting our mistakes might mean losing the people we love by asking for said forgiveness. But this is a story about learning how to live with our mistakes, and how, sometimes, no matter how many times you could come back and redo it, there's things you simply can't change. But that shouln't change who we are, and can become. A story about learning that we are powerful enough to mend wounds we thought we would never be able to close.
A story, that at its very core, it's about hope. About that kindness that refuses to die, even in our darkest moments.
This isn't political. This isn't about religion either. This is just me being honest, to you and to myself. And I wanted to tell you because I respect you, and because you've given me the kindness of your time and attention.
So let me say it again. Thank you for every comment, every like, every idea. Thank you for reminding me why I started this story in the first place.
I'll be back when the rework is ready, in Scribblehub or Webnovel. Until then, please, take care of yourselves.
Love you all, truly.