A/N: Before you kill me for making such a short chapter after such a long wait, allow me to point out the second chapter I have provided. I also would like to add that, in this story anyway, Sango is the queen of understatement. Grammar is intentionally bad whenever it appears so. And thank you for all the reviews. I shall be trying to respond to them via private messaging or e-mail.
From the diary of Higurashi Kagome
I cannot seem to get Inuyasha-san out of my head. Whenever I resolve not to think about him, I realize I am not paying attention to whoever is speaking, and am thinking about not thinking about him.
Oh, but it is blissful thinking of him! The more I think of him, the more boring every other aspect of life seems to become. Everything I used to adore pales in comparison.
At first I thought it was something of a crush, but then I asked Sango-chan about how she feels about Miroku-san.
She smiled secretively. "I adore him." My friend said wistfully. "No matter how many times I see him, he never bores me. And his constant attention to other women certainly keeps me on my toes! I would rather he did not spend so much time looking after them, but I am glad to spend the rest of my life with him."
If that is what love is, I truly do not know what I am experiencing at the moment. I cannot imagine that Inuyasha-san would ever bore me, and I doubt that he is a ladies' man such as Miroku-san, but I simply cannot say that I adore him.
That is to say, I cannot say that I adore him in the way that one would say "I adore this hat", or "I adore daikon radishes". It seems too weak a word.
He intrigues me. I can think of so many word to describe my feelings. Interest, curiosity, fascination...
Obsession.
Oh dear I must go I will write later.
...Later...
I am obsessed with Inuyasha-san.
It came to me when I realizes that I wanted the voice in my head to be Inuyasha-san. I cannot say I am utterly so, but unfortunately I harbor a rather unhealthily strong attraction towards a young man I have only met once, and that is something that I am sure would mark me as the wrong kind of girl, were this diary to be discovered. My entries are sure to stir up trouble.
Therefore, I must refrain from making many more of them. As foolish as it is to pen these words, diary, I say farewell.
At least, for now.