b(Love) Problems being dealt to a Spiky Haired Boy [Prologue]/b
A/N: This story was inspired by my relationship with my boyfriend. So this is basically my story being played out of Yuugi. Poor guy.
I do NOT want my friends to read this because I do not wish for them to know of my problems.
DISCALAMER: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! But I own my life. (Plot).
WARNINGS: Shonen-ai (Even though I am a female. . . . ^^ Couldn't help it.), dark thoughts, self-mutilation, romance (YB+Y), and major confusion!
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I sighed and stared up at my ceiling and tapped my pen against the notebook I was writing in before.
No one believes in me. All my friends have no faith. I can try to prove to them my worth, but then they still wont believe.
I sighed again and rested my head on my desk.
If I hadn't acted like a spaz though out my life, none of this would be happening.
I remember having a conversation with Honda on the phone and somehow we started talking about guns and how Yami took me to a shooting range, apparently I have good aim.
But the one thing Honda said I would never forget.
"I would never trust you with a gun."
Even if he was in grave danger, he wouldn't trust me.
Though the sentence was made for humors sake, it still hurt.
I lifted my head and pulled up my left sleeve. You could barley see lines going across my lower arm.
They healed mostly.
My 'micro-cuts' as I like to call them. All done by the broken mirror I had found.
The glass is not sharp enough to actually make them bleed like a knife could, but more like scratches that bleed slightly.
Self pity.
I don't like the sound of that, but it's probably true.
I don't like the way I look.
I'm to fat and ugly for anyone to actually like.
Especially Bakura.
Yes. To top off all my problems is this one.
I think I like Ryou's yami, Bakura.
What a laugh!
But it's true.
Me, innocent little crazy Yuugi loves a sum what crazy Yami who tries to do so many things to himself.
He also has depression in which he's taking medication for.
I trace my fingers lightly over my arm where the cuts used to be.
I'm actually quite proud of them.
Something physical to show my emotional pain. I hope nobody sees them; I'm going to wear my blue hooded sweatshirt tomorrow.
I sighed again and pulled down my sleeve.
Closing my Journal and hiding it under my bed, I changed into my pajamas and went to bed.
It's 3:30a.m. and I have school tomorrow.
Thus meaning I get ot see Bakura on the Bus again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: These are almost my exact thoughts on my life and what's going on, so far in the story at least.
Please review!
A/N: This story was inspired by my relationship with my boyfriend. So this is basically my story being played out of Yuugi. Poor guy.
I do NOT want my friends to read this because I do not wish for them to know of my problems.
DISCALAMER: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! But I own my life. (Plot).
WARNINGS: Shonen-ai (Even though I am a female. . . . ^^ Couldn't help it.), dark thoughts, self-mutilation, romance (YB+Y), and major confusion!
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I sighed and stared up at my ceiling and tapped my pen against the notebook I was writing in before.
No one believes in me. All my friends have no faith. I can try to prove to them my worth, but then they still wont believe.
I sighed again and rested my head on my desk.
If I hadn't acted like a spaz though out my life, none of this would be happening.
I remember having a conversation with Honda on the phone and somehow we started talking about guns and how Yami took me to a shooting range, apparently I have good aim.
But the one thing Honda said I would never forget.
"I would never trust you with a gun."
Even if he was in grave danger, he wouldn't trust me.
Though the sentence was made for humors sake, it still hurt.
I lifted my head and pulled up my left sleeve. You could barley see lines going across my lower arm.
They healed mostly.
My 'micro-cuts' as I like to call them. All done by the broken mirror I had found.
The glass is not sharp enough to actually make them bleed like a knife could, but more like scratches that bleed slightly.
Self pity.
I don't like the sound of that, but it's probably true.
I don't like the way I look.
I'm to fat and ugly for anyone to actually like.
Especially Bakura.
Yes. To top off all my problems is this one.
I think I like Ryou's yami, Bakura.
What a laugh!
But it's true.
Me, innocent little crazy Yuugi loves a sum what crazy Yami who tries to do so many things to himself.
He also has depression in which he's taking medication for.
I trace my fingers lightly over my arm where the cuts used to be.
I'm actually quite proud of them.
Something physical to show my emotional pain. I hope nobody sees them; I'm going to wear my blue hooded sweatshirt tomorrow.
I sighed again and pulled down my sleeve.
Closing my Journal and hiding it under my bed, I changed into my pajamas and went to bed.
It's 3:30a.m. and I have school tomorrow.
Thus meaning I get ot see Bakura on the Bus again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: These are almost my exact thoughts on my life and what's going on, so far in the story at least.
Please review!