InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Life Journal ❯ Chapter 1

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Thank you “This is me smiling”, for that very informative review. I have reposted the chapter in very visible black script. So, to those that didn't realize and were unable to read, please enjoy the chapter.

At this point in my life, I have opted to express my emotions and feelings into a memorable and `plain-as-day', `in your face', `here'swhat I am talking about', format. This is the best way I could survey things in my life and have a chance to look back at the love, the pain, the excitement, hurt and happy times. It all started after three months of being with my boyfriend, Inuyasha. I had no one to talk to and nowhere to go so writing became my only escape from the depression that was slowly suffocating me. Myname is Onekan Hirotima, this is my story.

Things between Inuyasha and I have greatly changed since we first met. He was sweet and caring and determined to make me his. I was able to turn him into putty just with a look. He would find me at every moment, send me messages and call me his sweet angel. Now I smother him. It almost feels that he is no longer interested in me or that he finds me boring. I'm sure it's everything. I've tried to leave him alone, I've tried to tell him how I feel and what's been bothering me. It doesn't help anymore. He is drifting away from me and it's because of me. It kills me to watch him everyday get angry at me because I can't figure out what he wants. Sometimes I think he is trying to make me crazy. The insane, lock you up in the nut house and shove pretty colored pills down your throat till you forget who and what you are. . . “I can see the moon, mom. The butterflies are carrying me away. Why don't you love me little ant? I can sprout wings and fly you know! You never mentioned going to your sister's house.” . . . kind of crazy. It's just that I'm wrong and he's right . . . all the time. It doesn't matter that I sat next to him while he was talking to his sister about catching mice, hangs up then turns over and goes back to sleep, waiting for him to tell me that we are going to his sister's house that night. He never spoke about it. Thank god I figured it out and took a shower cuz I would have beat him when he yelled at me to hurry up. Not to mention the fact that I'll say to him, your cousin is coming by tomorrow and we have to meet him at one. He tells me that he would never be done and I should go alone, it's already eleven thirty. `Hon, I said tomorrow.' `No you didn't.' Excuse me as I fall over anime style and my eyes start twitching. Do men ever listen? The answer is NO!

We didn't necessarily have a fight, but it affected me the same way. The morning after our “talk”, the one in which he told me I was smothering him and he needed space. I didn't know how to act around him so I avoided him, at all cost, at all heartbreak. Never mind the tears that streamed down my face every time I thought about it or the slight pain in my chest that reminded me I still have a heart and it was breaking. I watched him walk by and hid in the closest closet. Do you know how hard it is to avoid someone that you live AND work with? Try hard as hell. And with the closest friend I have living 90 miles away and the weather turning too cold to get lost in the woods. The unavoidable was bound to happen. I was on my last job and he came to me. Not to talk, not to comfort me, not to give me love and comfort or anything I begged for silently. He wanted my hat. . . well he couldn't find his and he would have whined all day . . . not that it mattered, I was avoiding him, but he has this way of making sure he was HEARD, if not seen. I removed mine, from my own head and gave it to him. He put it on his head and then just stared at me. I felt so unnerved and uneasy and unsure of myself, like I was estranged from him and we were roommates after a drunken one night tryst with each other and we'd had only platonic feelings for each before then. I hoped and prayed as well as vivid images of him striding to me, cupping my face with his hands and kissing me as he used to when we first met, hell I'm not greedy I'd have taken a hug, anything to know I wasn't in his shit list or on my way to his long list of departees. . . some of which he still converses with regularly but none bothering more than one specific individual whom shall remain nameless. When reality slapped me, he was still standing there, starring at me. I couldn't take it any longer; I turned and went back to my task at hand. He went back to his site and went to work. It took all I had to not collapse in that closet and admit defeat. Those eyes of his are so readable, so open, so inviting . . . but I cannot decipher them. I see them as they are, his emotions so closed off to my senses . . . no wonder I am pushing him away. I feel I don't know him sometimes, like his past, his wants, likes, dislikes (some I know some are not shown and elude my senseless mind) you'd be surprised how little I know of his life as I live it with him. Whether it's his choice to not tell me or to keep me at arm's length as he has done, I'm sure, with so many others to avoid getting hurt or just to keep me from knowing everything about his life. A life which he says is too boring and too depressing. But yet he has so many that love him platonic and otherwise.

After the stand-off that morning, I began thinking of a future in my own apartment. I had always wanted to be on my own and had daydreams of being known as “the horse lady”. Delusions I know. I tried telling him such when we first met but he was persistent and eventually I gave in to his addictive personality and his self-assuredness. Now I wonder if I did him a great injustice and he's seeing the mistake and regretting bringing me home.

There was a time when Inuyasha pursued me so intently and so determinedly but I had heard stories from others that he would just use me and it's all a game to him and yadda, yadda, yadda. His actions then and words I had heard from others fueled my resolve to keep him at bay and not get so enamored with him that I would lose myself to him. Not sexually but personality and who I am. I would become so enraptured with being with him I would follow his ever step and tag along like a lost puppy would. Which, now, I find must be the case but then I wanted to make sure he wanted me for me and not because he wanted in my pants or to see how long it took for him to get in them. I trust him whole-heartedly. Don't I?

I remember when he told me he loved me. I only half expected to hear it, because I've heard from so many guys that they love me, usually after they have had in my pants but his words seemed so much more sincere and from the heart. He accepted the fact that I would not return those words to him, I've told before that I was not going to get attached to him and that I needed to be on my own for awhile before I made up my mind on what I was going to do. Do men listen? DUH! So when he told me those words, I did want to say them back because I thought and felt that I was in fact in love with him too. I didn't however, say them and soothe his soul with the three words that could possibly heal him and I both from our broken hearts and our tortured pasts, but I held him close trying to relay what I feel for him in actions, not words. I am just as inept relaying those messages as I am at picking up sarcasm and finding meaning in straight forward situations. He told me later that he wasn't sure if I truly loved him because I never said or did anything. He thought I didn't care that he laid his heart on the butcher's table while he was slicing and dicing steaks and roasts for a family dinner. To be that bold and daring and sincere with such a fragile and susceptible part of his body meant the world to me. Knowing that I could not say those words to him, yet he put it out there to me that he felt that way, was bravery unknown to many. He has so much passion in his being and when he loves he loves fast, furious, hard and yet so slow, gentle and tenderly. To have it and yet not have it tears me in two.