This is a new series I'm writing, till I get SS back on track. This is how
I think Life actually would be. Not all the ups and hereos always win. So,
this first chapter is about Inuyasha. The next well perferably be about
Miroku. And so and so forth. Read and Review. Please? =( BTW, this is Blood
Rayne ^^;
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I don't think that I have an unnatural fascination with death. Neither do I believe that I am suicidal. This is merely my way of dealing with the events of the past few years.
Once upon a time, I was a happy lad. I knew who I was, I knew what I was. I had an idea of where my life was leading me, and I knew the route that my life would take to get there. The details of the trip didn? bother me, because I was sure that it would all sort itself out. I had strength, I had my faith, and I had a mother that I loved unconditionally.
Of course, I wished I was taller, and I wished that I was smarter but neither of those bothered me as much. I was certain that I was better than all the other yahoos in my village, and that I would be rich and successful while they would be scrubbing floors. No, I never said that I was modest. I tried to be self-effacing in front of other people, but that didn't change how I felt about things on the inside.
All that changed around puberty.
I changed names numerous time, I fell out of touch with everyone, I had a crush on a girl who wouldn't give me the time of day.I suppose this was bad enough. But then, our house(my mother's and mine) was broken into and burgled twice, once while we were present. I wasnt doing too well at all, and my mother felt that I wasn't living up to my full potential. I, in turn, felt that her demands of me were unrealistic.
Lets face it, I was confused. I was no longer sure of where life was taking me. Events were spiralling out of my control, and that scared me. I spent my ( 13-14) years angry and depressed. I was a powder keg ready to explode.
I fizzled.
Some people turn to drugs, and others to drink . I've always been very clean-cut, and I've never cared for any of the above. Of course, what I wound up doing wasnt much better.
I started keeping a diary, and then, I started cutting myself.
Small cuts, along my forearm. It used to be my wrist, but I moved it down because it was easier to cover. In the five years that I was cutting, my mother noticed them only once, and then too, when they were fresh and swollen, and looked like a rash of some sort.
I was angry and bitter at the world, and He who created it. So, I grew angry at God, too. So, by last year, I lost faith, too. I knew I could never live up to my mothers expectations. And I was no good at keeping friends. So, I decided to kill myself.
It seemed like a rational decision at the time.
I wonder what might have happened if Kikyo and I hadn't come so close. Perhaps I would have chickened out some other way, or perhaps, I would have gone through with it. I honestly can't say. Kikyo never wanted me to discuss it, or even think about it.
No, I don't think that I am suicidal. For the past five or six years, I've wanted to die, and now, all of a sudden, I find that I would like to go on living. And with these thoughts, I think I'd like to take a little nibble of death without doing myself any permanent harm.
Necrophagia. Eat the dead.
I don't think that I have an unnatural fascination with death. Neither do I believe that I am suicidal. This is merely my way of dealing with the events of the past few years.
Once upon a time, I was a happy lad. I knew who I was, I knew what I was. I had an idea of where my life was leading me, and I knew the route that my life would take to get there. The details of the trip didn? bother me, because I was sure that it would all sort itself out. I had strength, I had my faith, and I had a mother that I loved unconditionally.
Of course, I wished I was taller, and I wished that I was smarter but neither of those bothered me as much. I was certain that I was better than all the other yahoos in my village, and that I would be rich and successful while they would be scrubbing floors. No, I never said that I was modest. I tried to be self-effacing in front of other people, but that didn't change how I felt about things on the inside.
All that changed around puberty.
I changed names numerous time, I fell out of touch with everyone, I had a crush on a girl who wouldn't give me the time of day.I suppose this was bad enough. But then, our house(my mother's and mine) was broken into and burgled twice, once while we were present. I wasnt doing too well at all, and my mother felt that I wasn't living up to my full potential. I, in turn, felt that her demands of me were unrealistic.
Lets face it, I was confused. I was no longer sure of where life was taking me. Events were spiralling out of my control, and that scared me. I spent my ( 13-14) years angry and depressed. I was a powder keg ready to explode.
I fizzled.
Some people turn to drugs, and others to drink . I've always been very clean-cut, and I've never cared for any of the above. Of course, what I wound up doing wasnt much better.
I started keeping a diary, and then, I started cutting myself.
Small cuts, along my forearm. It used to be my wrist, but I moved it down because it was easier to cover. In the five years that I was cutting, my mother noticed them only once, and then too, when they were fresh and swollen, and looked like a rash of some sort.
I was angry and bitter at the world, and He who created it. So, I grew angry at God, too. So, by last year, I lost faith, too. I knew I could never live up to my mothers expectations. And I was no good at keeping friends. So, I decided to kill myself.
It seemed like a rational decision at the time.
I wonder what might have happened if Kikyo and I hadn't come so close. Perhaps I would have chickened out some other way, or perhaps, I would have gone through with it. I honestly can't say. Kikyo never wanted me to discuss it, or even think about it.
No, I don't think that I am suicidal. For the past five or six years, I've wanted to die, and now, all of a sudden, I find that I would like to go on living. And with these thoughts, I think I'd like to take a little nibble of death without doing myself any permanent harm.
Necrophagia. Eat the dead.