Hello everyone! I'm back…well, ISWT is back at least. I've had a little time adjusting to everything going on here, so yeah. This is a long-awaited chapter, people have been bugging me mercilessly to get it out and I am sorry to have kept you waiting. You guys are amazing, thank you for the support. Don't forget to comment—it was particularly hard to write this chapter. I needed a little segway of happiness before the shit really hits the fan. Hope you like it—
Read and enjoy—
--MC
P.S. This is dedicated to Girltype, for support and guidance I never knew I needed so desperately. Thanks for being there for me…
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4/24/99
2:36 p.m.
The Creation of People
Over the past years there have been many unexplained events that have stumped scientists and baffled some of the greatest minds. A long time ago, when Poseidon ruled the water world there lived beautiful creatures we call mermaids. They lived happily in the world of water and were very content. They only took what was provided by the gods. The only thing that troubled the mer-people was the deep, dark cave Poseidon forbade them to ender. There was something luring about the cave. Maybe it was the mystery, maybe it was the darkness, but whatever it was, it drew the mer-people in and in and in.
The cave troubled the people and they didn't know what to do. They thought about it constantly and anything they did reminded them of the cave. It kind of puzzled the people why Poseidon wanted this cave to exist, and if he didn't—why was it there? Many people said there were riches inside it; maybe there were monsters; maybe there was nothing at all and Poseidon just wanted to test the people, but the more and more they thought about it, they just had to know what was in that cave.
Amalia and Hermeculus wandered by that cave many times. They often dared each other to go into it—but no on ever did. To them the cave would be an adventure and they were just itching to go discover it.
"Maybe Poseidon wants us to go in the cave," thought Amalia.
"Then why would he tell us not to?" Hemeculus asked tentatively.
"I don't know!" Amalia whined," but why would Poseidon out something like that out in the open if it was really dangerous? I mean, he does care for us like his children."
"That is true, but how could we know for sure?" Amalia pondered the question for a while and then burst out—
"I can't stand it any longer! The suspense is killing me!"
"Isn't someone a swimming drama act?" Hermeculus answered mockingly.
"Well…?" Amalia answered shrewdly.
"Well what?"
"Are we going to go in?" she said.
"Of course my dear, ladies first!" Hemeculus said with a smirk.
"Oh thank you scardey cat!"
"Your welcome." As the two entered the cave they felt a cold, chilling feeling run up and down their spine.
"What was that?" Amalia asked.
"I don't know—I don't know everything, okay?"
Everything became clear to the pair as they swam through the cave. Questions shot through their heads as they traveled deeper and deeper, they asked things such as: Why do we live in the water? Why can't we live somewhere else? Why do we always have to obey Poseidon? Why do we have flippers?
Then all of a sudden it hit them—their lungs tightened, their flippers disappeared and in place of them where two things that didn't swim very well at all. They floated to the surface of the water and washed up on the beach. There they saw every other mer-person and they knew what they had done. They had discovered the element for true evil. They found something worse than a thousand monsters. They found reality and it smacked them in the face like the smell of rotting salmon. Poseidon took away their perfect world and changed it into a world full of hatred and hard times. Nothing would be like their precious sea again. Nothing would ever be the same again. Nothing.
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I had gotten to such extreme pathetic measures that I was even growling and yelling at my own cat because he looked at me wrong. I just sat on the bed and he gave me that look, like he knew I was doing something I shouldn't, like he knew that I was probably being incredibly stupid and childish and how would he know anyway?
"This is my bed, buster," I threatened through clenched teeth. He looked at me, one ear twitched and then he resumed to cleaning himself. "Butt-licker," I muttered darkly, catching the almost miniscule snort my cat made at the comment. Damn feline hearing. The just don't let you get away with anything these days.
Well, it wasn't necessarily that I was feeling in a particular dark or creepy or pathetic mood—no matter what had been going on around me lately. I was trying to be optimistic about everything no matter if I had absolutely nothing to be optimistic, unless you count gaining two pounds in about an hour (honestly, I am THAT talented) while I shoveled in Sango's cookies that she had dropped by earlier before going to "work" or whatever it is she does these days, promising to return. She would be here anytime and I wanted to show her a proud and happy face in light of everything that happened so I could prove to her that I was really a strong person after all. Well, I think I'm a strong person—it is my heart that I have to worry about sometimes. Blasted organ. I jumped when my cat spread out and sunk his claws into the back of my sweatshirt at that moment, annoying me and pissing me off to no end. You think they are the cutest thing when you see them at the pet store and then they grow into these grotesque, annoying animals that want to prove to you that you really are as pathetic as you think you are. Dear god, I'm analyzing my cat for ulterior motives. I think I should just find my Colt .45 (well, if I owned a gun I suppose that is what I would own and I so know what kind of gun it is and I am not just referencing it from another book because I want to sound like I know what I'm talking about) and put myself and everyone else out of misery. Am such a burden that even my cat—
He scratched me again. Right. He still needs me for food. OKAY! Sango needs to get here before I actually start talking out loud to my cat and then I collect more cats and instantly age forty years to become some neurotic cat woman spinster that has no friends and Sango will just think she went into the wrong apartment when she arrives with her key. AAAARGH! I can't do this to myself! He doesn't love me! He doesn't love me! He doesn't love me! He doesn't love me! He doesn't love me! Who the hell am I talking about anyways? Did I mean Inuyasha…or Sesshomaru? Its not that they are similar, but who am I really more broken up about? I'm not even sure anymore. I want to be sure, but I'm not. I should be thinking about Sesshomaru because even though he was being particularly snotty that day Inuyasha still came out the bigger dick. Paul! French! Paris! AAAAAARGH! I am tired. I'm going to sleep.
Damn it! Sango's here. Bloody hell. There goes my composed stature. Sango gracefully (the bitch)… (Alright, I really don't mean it) glided into my apartment and stared a little dumbly at the piles of books stacked against the doors. My insides twisted nastily when I thought of how those books actually got there and any kind of previous composure that I had (admittedly it was slim to none), left my aching body and flew out the window. I turned around and clutched my cat to me (he gave me a look of "I knew you really needed me, you stupid woman") and whimpered into his fur. Sango patted my back reassuringly and kissed my forehead.
"Sweetie, you can't sit her and mope all the time," she whispered against my temple, her motherly instincts kicking into overdrive and I didn't mind even though that thought made my heart cringe uncontrollably while still imbedded in my chest—not a pleasant feeling. I muffled something against my cat's fur. "What?" She soothed.
"I have a license to mope, especially when there is nothing in this world to live for, Sango," I said dramatically, not altogether agreeing with the statement, but knowing it would earn me more sympathy.
"Oh darling, I know just what you need," she crooned before she did something most despicable. She dragged me into the bathroom and began to take off my clothes.
"EXCUSE ME!" I yelled, wondering what exactly she was doing and how getting me clean in any fashion was going to make the mope-y one feel better. When I was simply clad in my bra and panties, something no one has seen in a while (aforementioned reasons, Sesshomaru hadn't been over, although he had called, twice, asking me how I was feeling and about my mother which I ignored because it hurt to hear his voice over the phone and not in front of me, kissing me, taunting me with thoughts of that night when nothing else could ever be the same again).
"What the hell is wrong with you, Kagome? What have you been doing to yourself?" Sango's eyes were studying my body in close detail and I winced when I glanced down, not seeing mounds of flesh as I had expected. I clutched my stomach as I looked at the unhealthy state my body had depreciated into, unable to understand how I had let myself get so…disgusting. My mother was in the hospital—not eating, accomplishing her goal of loosing weight through her disease and here I was, unconsciously starving myself to the point where I wanted to be fat again just so I could recognize myself in the slightest. I stood up and touched my face in the mirror—bags under my eyes, large circles of red and black, tingeing my already pale complexion impossibly paler. I looked absolutely disgusting; there was no other word for it. I turned to Sango as she stood behind me, her hand pressed to her mouth in utter shock and compassion.
"Sango, who am I any more?" I whispered, suddenly feeling very sorry that she had to have a friend like me—someone who could barely take care of herself and not even realize when she was killing herself slowly and painfully. Perhaps the pain of my emotions, my mixed emotions, confused me and distracted me from the pain of everything else. Sango hugged me tightly and brushed back my hair.
"You are Kagome, my best friend in the world, and the most confused and introspective woman to have ever lived," she gently whispered, her honest words allowing me a brief smile despite the seriousness of the situation.
"That was a rhetorical question," I murmured back, holding her closer to me. Sango chuckled lightly.
"I know, sweetie," she answered and let go of me softly to start a bath.
Ten minutes later I was settled into the comforting aroma of pear berry, eyes closed, basking in companionable silence with Kagome perched on the counter. I let the air around me soothe me into a delicate slumber of relaxation.
11/23/02
1:47 p.m.
I told a friend once that if you are ever depressed you need to find one thing in the world that you can think of that makes you inexplicably happy.
He chuckled dryly and said he couldn't recall anything.
I told him; for me, it isn't necessarily a thing that I do, like playing water polo or riding my bike. It is the feeling I get when I am doing these things when I find that moment of complete happiness where no one can do wrong and all is right for the world. It could be a second, a minute, maybe even an hour but it is something that when you look back on you can't help but smile. Perhaps it was during a sleepover at a friend's house but you never went to sleep or perhaps it was during a drive-in movie that you found particularly entertaining, perhaps it is on a special rock you like to sit on with a friend or perhaps through a song that speaks to your soul. This moment and this feeling is something no one else can experience or take away from you. It is something that is specifically yours, special and individual like you yourself.
He only chuckled again and hugged me close and said, "I think I just found one of my moments…"
Sango chuckled a little and then whispered, "Polygamy is not a lion trait." I laughed, outright and loud, recalling the moment…
We were sitting in some nondescript Chinese restaurant with Kouga, and I felt a little awkward, eating dinner while the two exchanged pleasantries with me—only to turn and gaze lovingly at each other. It made me feel alone and tired all at once, not fully understanding that I was completely and utterly jealous of what she had; a relationship with someone that felt the same way about her as she felt for him. It felt like I had been abandoned—everyone had someone—even Miroku was off with some girl and Inuyasha was with his usual and typical Tom, Dick and Harry. The fact of the matter was, is that everyone else seemed to have someone except me. But I guess that was just as my fault as anyone else's, since I wouldn't let anyone to replace Inuyasha or get close enough to even try. I was cold and afraid, that was the bottom line, and I hated admitting it to myself. So I was stubborn. Stupid Kouga was ranting about something and I decided to jump in the conversation. We were speaking of love and marriage—god knows how we got on that subject— (insert roll of eyes) and how men don't seem to be monogamous like women are. I certainly believed it, definitely.
"Men are definitely animals," I flashed a quick smile at Sango. Kouga glanced at me briefly.
"Yes, so why are we tied down to one woman? Why can't we be like a lion, having a pride of women…" he chuckled, knowing how to get on Sango's nerves. However, it was not Sango who raised her voice then. It was me.
"Polygamy is not a lion trait!" I yelled, cringing on the inside at my totally incorrect statement. The restaurant goers glared at me, unable to truly understand what we were discussing and the magnitude of the argument. It wasn't large, but it struck a nerve in me, it physically hurt the romantic side of me to think of men having multiple wives—allowing their attentions and love (if it was even present) to be spread among so many people. I always thought it was to be shared, nurtured, kept between two people and two people alone. Even though Sango laughed delicately I knew that the only thing I could do was laugh gently as well, reducing the tension of the atmosphere to nothing. But I could help thinking…
I laughed dryly as she scratched her chin.
"Sometimes I hate being the lead character in my own book of life. Sometimes I wish I was a periphery character just on the outside watching this whole crazy madness. How does it feel, Sango, to be a periphery character?" Sango shifted a little on the counter and then looked me straight in the eyes.
"It feels wonderful," she admitted. "But don't think about me, Kagome, I was meant to take a backseat. Your lead character material." I ran my hair through my hair swiftly.
"But don't you notice that a lot of these lead characters are kind of one dimensional?" Sango's mouth quirked a bit.
"Yeah, I do. But you can change that, Kag, your life isn't set in stone, the ink isn't dry yet. Rewrite your story if you need to; make your character to your liking. And secure a decent leading man who isn't one dimensional either." I laughed truly this time; it was always like Sango to be trying to get me a husband at a time like this.
I settled back into the bath as Sango got up to cook some food or clean the apartment or do something useful with herself, knowing her. She always has to be my mother, although I didn't mind in this state. I needed more mothering at the moment than I ever did. I wanted to be held and told what to do so I didn't have to think anymore, I didn't have to take responsibility. Especially after the other night. I didn't really know what to think anymore about that. I didn't want to. But as I sat there in the tub, remembering times when Sesshomaru was there with me, I couldn't help thinking about it.
"You love her, don't you?"
I shifted in the tub.
"Just admit that you love her."
Does he really love me? Was it there, hitting me in the face and I didn't notice? Was it in every caress, kiss, hug, laugh just like in all those romance movies I thought I knew so well? Was he looking at me longingly as I stared off into the sunset—dreaming of Inu? Did he really love me instead of using me like I thought I was using him? Was I really using him for comfort or had it become more? My legs shifted up to allow me to lean my chin on my knees, the usual roll of fat between my curled up body not hindering me as before. How long had I been destroying myself without my notice? My eyes widened with shock and horror to think that Sesshomaru perhaps had seen me in my downward cycle. Correction, he HAD seen me. Why hadn't he said anything?
"Kagome, aren't you hungry?" Sesshomaru asked me, watching me play with my food—pushing it back and forth across my plate.
"No, not particularly." He looked up and gave me a half smile, a smile that held hurt and concern.
"Kagome, did you know that I think you're beautiful?" He said, catching me off guard with the comment. I looked into his eyes and smiled slightly, unable to believe him and yet thankful for his attention.
"You know it's not necessary to say that," I whispered, speaking to my food.
"I know. But as a lawyer, I pride myself in speaking the truth." We both laughed, assuaging the tension from the dinner.
When I remembered all these moments, these memories of us together, it isn't hard to believe that our "arrangement" had definitely crossed over to the line of relationship. And yet, with all my recalling and remembering, I don't know the exact moment this happened—if there even was an exact moment. Was there a moment for him? Or was it just always a relationship to him—and I unwittingly pushed him away? Again, did I love him?
1/3/04
4:56 a.m.
Love. It's the strongest and most powerful emotion a person can possess. That is the understatement of the century. Love kills people. It's like a bad advertisement for the modern-remake-Baz Lurhman Romeo and Juliet; Guns don't kill people, love does. However, when one looks passed all the shit, wade through the bull and get to the heart of the matter, love is as complex as human beings are. One can go through a whole lifetime without feeling all the forms that love has to offer the human psyche; it differs from the pleasure of friendship, the fidelity of family and the complexities of romance, just to name a few of the realms love touches with its platinum plated touch. But romantic love, true love is what puzzles me the most. There are so many definitions that one could even go as far as to wonder how people even agree with each other on how they are feeling. Other countries have different words to express the many forms of love and yet English is lacking in a set of concrete answers for what love truly is and what it entails.
I, myself, being a grade A failure in the ways and matters of all things dealing with the tricky emotion (I must profess that I have never felt true love because I have never had a partner to feel the same way) cannot truly give a respectable answer to what this love is. However, from my extensive reading and hopeless romantic, whirlwind clichéd tendencies, I believe I am as qualified as anyone else is in the matter. To me, true love is emotion without want. That is to say that yes, of course, in an ideal world you want the person to love you back and feel the same etc etc etc, but what I mean is that you are completely satisfied being near them, listening to their voice, laughing with them. That when you are together there are no demands or pressures, no expectations or preconceptions, you are just happy with the opportunity of being near them. Love is not all consuming, even though I have previously stated that I desire this, I do not think so now. Love is also being aware of those around you and not forgetting the people who have mattered all your life (namely your family and friends) in the daze of an extremely intense and passionate affair. Love is not blind to one's faults; instead love embraces these faults and as the great Kathleen once said "does not love you in spite of your flaws, but because of them." True love is a never-ending, continual battle to fight for your loved one in this ever-changing world in which we live in.
After being with Sess, my idea of love had definitely changed. With him, it wasn't all-consuming nor freakishly boring. With him, it was like normal routine, life as usual, with the added bonus of the comfort and attention of someone you enjoyed having around. It didn't hurt—gut and heart wrenchingly when he wasn't there; I felt like I could be my own person without him being my other half. It was as if we were a well-oiled machine, working together to achieve the same goal and yet not changing our parts or our original destinations for each other. I liked that, the stability, the comfort, the knowledge that he was always a phone call away when he wasn't around and when he was around he wasn't continually alerting me to his presence—there were times when we just sat and read, focused on work or whatnot; not ignoring each other, but in companionable silence. He was like a friend, someone who I could be myself with and yet I felt sexual desire for him and him for me, something that was ever-present in our relationship. I liked that too; being driven to exquisite release in the knowledge that I WAS wanted and I WAS lusted. And it didn't hurt that I found him so arousing physically either. He knew what buttons to press without even touching me, a feat in and of itself. It surprised me how well we were together and yet it didn't feel like the love that I always wanted, it didn't feel like the love I had for Inuyasha. It didn't feel like pain and heartache and stabbing torture. Was that because he was reciprocating my attentions, or was it because my ideas and desires in love had changed dramatically; a tortured heart didn't define love for me anymore?
But as Sango yelled at me that I had to get out before I shriveled up in the tub, I couldn't help thinking; it still didn't mean that I didn't love Inu anymore…
"The Uno gods hate me! Why do I have to be the bastard child! I feel neglected," I whined, pouting at Sango as she won the umpteenth game of Uno we played. After I presented myself to her—clothed once again, we ate some sandwiches she fixed in the kitchen. As I cleaned up the dishes, Sango pulled out the Uno deck and smiled devilishly at me. Okay, now, I definitely will admit that competition fires me up to no end—I love playing games I know I can win. However, there was one game that eluded me—Uno—and Sango knew it. Perhaps I thought about it too much, perhaps I didn't really pay attention, but the fact of the matter was that I absolutely sucked at the game. Completely and utterly sucked, hands down I was probably the worst Uno player in the world—next to Sango, which burned the hatred in me more that she would always beat me. It bothered me even more that she didn't even TRY to win, she didn't care, and I was sitting here thinking up strategies to beat her. How can you strategize against someone who has no strategy? It's difficult to say the least. In a flurry of hatred and passion I tossed the cards everywhere, too upset the care about the mess. Sango's eyes glanced around the room, the cards strewn every which way, laughter dancing in her eyes. I looked up at her, not amused.
"Honey, honey, what's this? Why do you do that?" She asked, finger waggling at the mess, trying not to laugh.
"I don't know, last time I still found Uno cards months afterwards. I swear there are some still stuck behind some cabinet or something. Perhaps that's why I loose. Damn cards," I grumbled good-naturedly.
"Kag, you have serious issues. But, nonetheless, good times had by all." I pushed Sango a bit in a friendly fight.
"Who are you?" I laughed hysterically, Sango shoving me back equally hard despite the pregnancy. I swear the woman gets stronger when she has a child in her. "Crazy lady." We laughed again, as she pushed me a little too hard and I landed on my rump on the floor. "Why why why? Why is the world against me?" I yelled heavenward, earning a groan from Sango. "What's wrong with you?"
"I'm having issues with god again," she answered huffily. Sango was a Catholic and yet she still had her struggles, especially with the teachings and controversies surrounding the religion. "I don't feel like being a sheep to the church," she huffed once more and I smiled, a true smile for once, knowing that her crisis of faith was averted but her issues with the church were all but over.
"Yeah, sure, whatever dear," I muttered and I rolled my eyes for effect, knowing it would goad her into an argument. Sango just laughed again, getting up to help me off the floor.
"I think its time for some Victorian romance comedy therapy," she smiled and I couldn't help but clap my hands together in joy. That means—
"EMMA!"
I shifted the popcorn on my knee as we both quoted the movie [I saw her at church and she seemed—vulgar, crass, base…]—verbatim—by heart.
"God bless Jane Austen," I yelled, earning another disapproving I'm-still-questioning-god face from Sango. "And while we're at it, god bless Mr. Knightly."
"Now that is something I can agree with," Sango sighed dreamily, stuffing popcorn in her mouth followed by a spoonful of peanut butter. Blasted pregnant women…
As we continued to watch the movie [It should not be improper for us to dance, we are not brother and sister…Brother and sister! Indeed, we are not], my heart warmed for the woman sitting beside me. Even though I had known her for many years—we had been through our share of love, loss and beyond together—I still loved her dearly. Sango was someone who I could take anywhere, fit in with any crowd; every type of my friends adored her honest and innocent nature quirked with good-natured craziness. And yet I couldn't help but be jealous of her yet again, her life not tainted with the pain or sadness or complexities of my own—her life as a periphery character. At least she understood my pain—she has experienced loss of her own but it just seemed as if some people (namely myself) had all the unfortunate luck to be stuck with the life-changing events that shape and contour our own character. I looked over at Sango again. [Perhaps it is our imperfections that make us so perfect for one another] Life is crazy like that; I couldn't help thinking as I turned my attention back to the movie, happy, that for once, even though my problems were hardly solved, I wasn't the one left alone.
Sango left my apartment late that night, with a hug and some more cookies [You need them!] I turned and went to go about the tedious task of cleaning up after our little girl party, even though it was true Sango hadn't left much for me to do. As I picked up one of the last Uno cards (I know I'm still going to find some later), my eyes rested on the pile of books once again placed neatly in the hall leading to my bedroom. I knew at that moment that I wanted to see him again, that it definitely wasn't over, but I still had more thinking to do. I definitely had more thinking to do. At it didn't even involve Sesshomaru. It involved Inuyasha.
"What, and give her to you? She is in love with me, how do you expect to win her love after her loving me for so many years?"
He was right. How could Sesshomaru even stand a hair's breadth of a chance against Inuyasha, the man that I fell for hard—literally and figuratively? But as tears sprang to my eyes, recalling other words spoken that night, my heart ached in that wrenching way again. Hadn't I decided that I didn't define love this way anymore? Hadn't I decided that love didn't mean you had to be consumed? No! My heart screamed, begging me not to deny the long-felt feelings that had treaded the annals of my heart for so many years. Inuyasha is the only one for you! Don't just forget him! I clutched my shirt, dragging my nails hard across the skin of my chest above my heart as I sunk to the floor. The idea of forgetting Inu left me for the time being as I curled, broken on the floor. If I was completely honest with myself, loving Inu was safe. Being with Inu was safe. It involved no risk, no hurt because there was nothing to be hurt or risk for. But deep down inside perhaps my heart beat a little quicker, another voice clamoring to be heard above the din—why does being safe feel like its killing you inside?