Dear Sesshomaru,
Destination is a funny thing. You are at a place one moment, and then gone from it in the next. Every second you are in a different place, a different destination. Or perhaps it isn't your destination, but simply a stop on the road of your quest. You can go back to a place, revisit is numerous times, but you can never recapture the same exact moment. Something's always different, always changing. Perhaps you wore your hair down last time, or instead of sandals, you wore shoes. But other than the physical aspects, you are emotionally changed as well. Perhaps you were a year younger, had your first kiss, or drank beer. Somehow you are always different. Even standing here changes me, changes you. It may not be a large change, but we have changed. Every second you change, every thought is a new perspective based on your new surroundings or experiences. You change in the littlest way possible, like a freckle on your hand, or in a large way, such as an experience to a foreign country. Every single thing you do changes you in some way, shapes your totally individual worldview, and brings you into your own person. You have your ideals, your partners on the journey, and even some bumps. But life still goes on. You breathe, you react, you live, without change, life ceases to exist, from the simple shedding of leaves, or the birth of a baby. It all changes.
And I guess that's what I love about life. I mean, if it didn't change then what would we do? How would we cope, adapt…evolve…live? I mean, life changes constantly—it's changing right now as I think! It honestly boggles the mind. How can something that is SO constant in life and yet changes the details every hour, minute, second? Why doesn't the world fold over on itself and explode?
When you think back on your life, you never really think about the small things that got you to the place you are. And I guess, well, I guess for me, it all boils down to a hot afternoon and some iced tea. And I guess that kind of depresses me. Well, perhaps not depress, but it makes me think a little. It reminds me that after one moment, my life was inexplicably changed from what it was into something, something new and…well, different, for lack of a better term. I guess I never really realized until now that different is so bad. I mean, I sit back and I think that different is scary and that change is horrible, but what else could have brought me this new perspective other than change? I know it seems kind of trivial to sit here and muse about life after I was so fixated on death and yet, and yet I still don't know if death was what I was going for. My physical wounds may have been healed (almost) but it doesn't mean that I couldn't have physically killed myself numerous times. I was capable. But I think the whole point of that wasn't to physically kill myself, but to have an emotional suicide. To not feel ANYTHING, to never be heart again, to never be forgotten, to never BE anything, was my goal. And that is something that scares me even more than everything else because I pride myself on what I've accomplished, memories I have and experienced I've shared. Isn't that what life is all about? Emotions are what life is all about, they make us humans able to smile, laugh, cry, sigh and worry at any given memory. I can't go all Nietzsche on my ass and just forget to feel the emotions attached to my memories because why deny your feelings? Why deny something you felt, as if you are ashamed? Because even though I've done some stupid things in my life, it doesn't make me ashamed or regretful. They were my experiences, I own them, I fashioned them myself. One could say they are the only thing I truly own out of everything I have. They are something completely and individually mine, my memories. Something that I can never truly get rid of, something I can never truly forget, something for that one moment, I can go back in time and be in that moment. And that is a truly amazing thing that we can do. I wasn't cutting my skin, I was cutting my soul. My skin healed…but the real question was if my soul had healed. I don't really know the answer to that, but right now, I'm alright with it. I have time.
My mother left the hospital the other day. She wasn't fully recovered, but the doctors said that she was on the road to recovery and home would probably be a better (and less expensive) option. Taking her home had been another memory. She was aware, she remembered things, she held my hand like she used to. But she was different. I don't know if she will ever be the same again. Ever. But like I said, different isn't bad. I just keep comparing, keep comparing memories and new insights and everything. But I love her, god do I love her. She is the most special thing to me, if only she knew. Perhaps one day I will tell her when she is better enough to understand what she means to me. And perhaps one day I will tell her the pain. Perhaps one day I'll tell everyone. But for now it's between me, my soul and Miroku.
Miroku told me once that I don't know how to have a real relationship. I guess he was right, in a way. I don't really know how to do anything anymore. It seems as if my life was just stuck in this never-ending perpetuating cycle of heartbreak and discomfort and harassment. I could have done anything with my life, I could have gone anywhere and yet I stayed here, I stayed with Inuyasha; I STAYED with him, someone who could have never loved me back. Everything was true that you said, everything. I protected myself, I hid myself, I held myself back from anything. I had countless opportunities denied because of my love for lack of change. But I forgot to realize that it doesn't matter. Things DO change. Change is constant, shit is inevitable, but grace is always accepted. I forgot that. I forgot that for my life to be better, for my life to have any sort of meaning, I had to change it, I had to fashion it myself. I had to own my life and believe in myself, in a totally corny way. Yes, I had to finally take charge of what I wanted and go for it. Which is why I'm going away. I'm taking a trip, I've won it, you could say. I won't tell you where I'm going, but I'll be back. I'll always come back. Because there are still things that I need to change here. There is just one more thing I have to do before I leave. I think you might know what that is.
Until then, Sesshomaru.
Love, Kagome
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We sat at a table together, alone in a corner of the café. It was a typical Parisian type, sitting on a corner and specializing in secluded tables for two. He smiled at me, a shy smile of warmth and happiness that spoke of so many experiences that had not yet faded into memory. And if I could I would put those experiences in a bottle that I would carry with me for the rest of my life. Not close to my heart, but wrapped up in my pocket, where I could take it out on occasions and perhaps let people understand for just one instant the emotion that could not be contained. To this day, I won't ever forget the lines of his face as he spoke those immortal words…
"So, you trusted Sesshomaru all this time?"
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The princess stepped off the sepulcher and into the great abyss to the land of beyond; a future where happy endings were fictional and where true life—hurt, pain, passion and intensity drew into one and burst into an eternal flame or fireball of life that surrounds humanity in the after-affecting glow. At least that was what I'd write in my journal. But the truth of the situation was that I was alive, and for the first time I wasn't seeing anything tinted with rose-colored glass or scrambled through the din of flowery writing, even though literarily speaking, life like that isn't so bad after all.
The leaves rustled in the wind as it swirled fallen reminisces of the trees in its embrace. He was waiting for me, I knew. But more importantly I was waiting for myself. I felt as if my mad story was being written anew, the almighty writer's pen swiftly gliding across the page as the white void of my book of life filled with something no one else could ever read or even understand, or at least not until the inevitable happened and humankind finally found the key to unlock the final vestiges of the human soul.
The End.
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Ya. That's the end. It doesn't have a romantic love affair or a dramatic love declaration scene. Does Kagome love Sesshomaru? Or is it Miroku she loves? Who was the man she was talking to? Inuyasha? Miroku?
Who cares. Think whatever you want. This story wasn't about the love, the love story was a catalyst into the real plot—Kagome's life, her discovery of herself. And that is all that matters. I'm sorry to disappoint people, but that's what I needed to do. It's what the characters lead me to write, what I felt was true. This story has been many things to me and I don't feel I could disgrace it by ending typically on a note of fevered love and desire. In Sess we trust. He is nothing but an enigma, so deconstruct your enigmas without my help. I'm done. This might be my last story of ff.net, it could go either way. After this work, something frivolous with meaningless fluff seems pointless after everything I've tried to accomplish here. Lately I've been feeling a little annoyed at fanfiction in general. I guess it feels weird that a story which has lots of sex and romance and everything is celebrated as genius. I don't know, I just don't know anymore. I hope you enjoyed my brief interlude into some reality. You can go back to your fluff, your romance, your sex now. I won't detain you any longer. I guess life is better, like Kagome thought, when its all "literature-esque." Who wants reality anyways?