Part of Your World ch 11
This chapter marks, if not the halfway point, a definate turning pointin this fic. I am almost tempted to end it here and begin a sequal, but I won't. SO just be aware that that is why this chap is different, and that it's alright to be comfused by the switch.
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I walked down the street to my car, reviewing my session in my head. I felt smug that I had once again tricked the therepist and eluded the real issues. I hated therepy, but it was better than... that place. The therepist said I had made a full recovery. I figure it's about time he realizes that.
Of course, I still think about it. I think about what happened a lot, though I don't remember it too well. I suppose that's part of why I think of hi... it. And it probably has to do with my reluctence to leave my home, the shrine, with my beloved Bone Eater's Well. I don't remember what happened at the well, but the well always makes me feel bettr when I'm sad. It's almost as if someone was there to hold me and take away my sadness.
I think someone was there once, when I was small. But -oh cursed memory!- I have no recollection of him. I am sure it was a him; my body remembers being held in a way that was tender, almost lovingly, by strong, warm arms.
I reach my car. I just got it when I got out of... there. I don't like to think of that place as much as I like to think of Him. That's how I think of Him, capitalized, special. I know he was special, and I know that somewhere in my heart and mind lies memories of him, but I have blocked out a year or two of my life. My mom would know, but she died of a heart attack while I was... there. My little siblings live with my uncle, but she left me the estate, and I'm now 18 and can live on my own. I like being alone. It feels safer.
On the drive to the job interview I have, I try and think of what I will say. "Hi. I'm Kagome. I was in an insane asylum for the past few years and have no memory of most of it at all. I go to thereoy twice a year, and I live alone because I don't like people that much and my parents are dead. I need to ern some money, and I can work full time because I was a high school drop-out and so am not going to collage. Please let me work here because my life is so f***ed up. Domo Arigato." Yeah right. I'm so dead.
I reach the nice, clean, shiny, classy, fancy department store. I'm wearing my interview outfit: clean jeans and a nice sweater. I look like shit compared to the saleslady. I convince the lady at customer service that I am Kagome and she leads me to a fancy manager's office in the back. The manager is a snooty rich snob. I plaster on a fake smile and shake hands. She looks down her fancy reading glasses at me.
"Now, tell me about your qualifications." Translation: why should I hire YOU, this teenage punk? And why arn't you in collage?
"Well, this would be my first job out of high school, and I want to get a good start in life, ya' know?" Baka! NEVER say "ya' know" to someone like THAT! "Umm, let's see, my parents had enough money to get me through high school, but they died, and my little siblings need the money, so I want to get a job, get some money saved up, and then put myself through collage. I'm, um, good with people, and I shop a lot, so I know what people want..." Not true. I met people who shop a lot, and I once was friends with people who shop a lot, and if I get this job I will shop a lot, so not exactly a lie either.
"We'll let you know once we make a decison." Translation: get lost, punk.
"Alright, my number is..."
"We have it on file." Liar. You never asked me what it was, how could you have it? What, are you psychic?
"Alright, then, I'll eagerly await your call." For about 10 seconds, which is all I can stand of your bullshit.
"Have a nice day." I will, I'm sure.
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Home again, home again, jiggity jig. Just like the pig. Although, it's not like I can possibly get fat on what I eat, seeing as how I live off of a trust fund my mother set up for me. It's not enough, of course, and the money will run out in about a month, but at least I'm not out on the streets. Then again, it might be nice. I don't know firsthand. If I ever was on the streets, I don't remember it. That's become my motto now: "If I ever did it, I don't remember it". IF it weren't for my birth certificate, I wouldn't know how old I was.
Cup-o-noodles. Yum. Artificial ramen in preservitives with "Chicken Flavoring". How delightful. I have a whole cupboard full. And it's microwavable, to enhance the fake flavoring!
I heat the water over the stove. I don't need any possible radiation risk right now, thank you very much. Then I sat down to eat and reflect on today's session. It went something like this. "So, how's the job search coming?" "fine." "That's good. How's the well?" "Fine." "Had any interestin dreams lately?" "no."
I sighed. Perhaps I SHOULD tell her about these flasback-feelings. Or perhaps not. Perhaps I should stop thinking about Him altogether and admit that He never existed. Or perhaps not. Perhaps I should tell her about my dreams. Lately I've been having nightmares. They are very disorganized and chaotic. Buts of fur, flashed of fangs and claws, red eyes. But I wake up scared out of my mind, some nameless fear haunting me in my sleep. Other times I've drreamed of dog ears and white hair, and woken up feeling content. Perhaps HE isn't human, or even real. Perhaps He is the ghost of Sesshomaru, last of the Youkai. Or perhaps not.
Such is my life now: haunted by strange dreams and half-real ghosts. Oh well. I finished my Ramen-substitute and went to bed.
REVIEW!!!
This chapter marks, if not the halfway point, a definate turning pointin this fic. I am almost tempted to end it here and begin a sequal, but I won't. SO just be aware that that is why this chap is different, and that it's alright to be comfused by the switch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I walked down the street to my car, reviewing my session in my head. I felt smug that I had once again tricked the therepist and eluded the real issues. I hated therepy, but it was better than... that place. The therepist said I had made a full recovery. I figure it's about time he realizes that.
Of course, I still think about it. I think about what happened a lot, though I don't remember it too well. I suppose that's part of why I think of hi... it. And it probably has to do with my reluctence to leave my home, the shrine, with my beloved Bone Eater's Well. I don't remember what happened at the well, but the well always makes me feel bettr when I'm sad. It's almost as if someone was there to hold me and take away my sadness.
I think someone was there once, when I was small. But -oh cursed memory!- I have no recollection of him. I am sure it was a him; my body remembers being held in a way that was tender, almost lovingly, by strong, warm arms.
I reach my car. I just got it when I got out of... there. I don't like to think of that place as much as I like to think of Him. That's how I think of Him, capitalized, special. I know he was special, and I know that somewhere in my heart and mind lies memories of him, but I have blocked out a year or two of my life. My mom would know, but she died of a heart attack while I was... there. My little siblings live with my uncle, but she left me the estate, and I'm now 18 and can live on my own. I like being alone. It feels safer.
On the drive to the job interview I have, I try and think of what I will say. "Hi. I'm Kagome. I was in an insane asylum for the past few years and have no memory of most of it at all. I go to thereoy twice a year, and I live alone because I don't like people that much and my parents are dead. I need to ern some money, and I can work full time because I was a high school drop-out and so am not going to collage. Please let me work here because my life is so f***ed up. Domo Arigato." Yeah right. I'm so dead.
I reach the nice, clean, shiny, classy, fancy department store. I'm wearing my interview outfit: clean jeans and a nice sweater. I look like shit compared to the saleslady. I convince the lady at customer service that I am Kagome and she leads me to a fancy manager's office in the back. The manager is a snooty rich snob. I plaster on a fake smile and shake hands. She looks down her fancy reading glasses at me.
"Now, tell me about your qualifications." Translation: why should I hire YOU, this teenage punk? And why arn't you in collage?
"Well, this would be my first job out of high school, and I want to get a good start in life, ya' know?" Baka! NEVER say "ya' know" to someone like THAT! "Umm, let's see, my parents had enough money to get me through high school, but they died, and my little siblings need the money, so I want to get a job, get some money saved up, and then put myself through collage. I'm, um, good with people, and I shop a lot, so I know what people want..." Not true. I met people who shop a lot, and I once was friends with people who shop a lot, and if I get this job I will shop a lot, so not exactly a lie either.
"We'll let you know once we make a decison." Translation: get lost, punk.
"Alright, my number is..."
"We have it on file." Liar. You never asked me what it was, how could you have it? What, are you psychic?
"Alright, then, I'll eagerly await your call." For about 10 seconds, which is all I can stand of your bullshit.
"Have a nice day." I will, I'm sure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Home again, home again, jiggity jig. Just like the pig. Although, it's not like I can possibly get fat on what I eat, seeing as how I live off of a trust fund my mother set up for me. It's not enough, of course, and the money will run out in about a month, but at least I'm not out on the streets. Then again, it might be nice. I don't know firsthand. If I ever was on the streets, I don't remember it. That's become my motto now: "If I ever did it, I don't remember it". IF it weren't for my birth certificate, I wouldn't know how old I was.
Cup-o-noodles. Yum. Artificial ramen in preservitives with "Chicken Flavoring". How delightful. I have a whole cupboard full. And it's microwavable, to enhance the fake flavoring!
I heat the water over the stove. I don't need any possible radiation risk right now, thank you very much. Then I sat down to eat and reflect on today's session. It went something like this. "So, how's the job search coming?" "fine." "That's good. How's the well?" "Fine." "Had any interestin dreams lately?" "no."
I sighed. Perhaps I SHOULD tell her about these flasback-feelings. Or perhaps not. Perhaps I should stop thinking about Him altogether and admit that He never existed. Or perhaps not. Perhaps I should tell her about my dreams. Lately I've been having nightmares. They are very disorganized and chaotic. Buts of fur, flashed of fangs and claws, red eyes. But I wake up scared out of my mind, some nameless fear haunting me in my sleep. Other times I've drreamed of dog ears and white hair, and woken up feeling content. Perhaps HE isn't human, or even real. Perhaps He is the ghost of Sesshomaru, last of the Youkai. Or perhaps not.
Such is my life now: haunted by strange dreams and half-real ghosts. Oh well. I finished my Ramen-substitute and went to bed.
REVIEW!!!