I don't own any of Rumiko Takahashi's characters etc, nor do I write this for a profit. I'm just a writer, who likes to get away from the constant conformity of existence, who likes to write fanfiction, in their spare time.
I write this next one page fanfic, to just help me get over my father's death. He had died two weeks ago Monday, which is about to be today. People believe I'm strong, but really I'm not. I have to be strong for my mother, and especially now. They had been married for 32 years, for goodness sakes. Sometimes I wonder, if the funerals I seem to go to once or twice a year, happened to prepare me for this. But, I guess that's for me to not know.
This fanfic will be written in first person, as Kagome. Souta is now age 23, just to help with the style.
...
I'm alone in the house again. My mother is finally getting out again. My brother, Souta...He hasn't been calling. He hasn't even been back since the memorial service...
I wipe the tears from my face.
Dammit...I'm starting up again...Good thing Sesshomaru isn't hear right now...I...I couldn't bear it...If he saw me like this, that is...
I stop, to gaze upon Buyo, and then out the window. I hold to myself, and then looked to the couch, in which my father use to lay.
I-I feel so different....It's as if a part of me is missing....At times...All I feel like doing...All I feel like doing is laying down upon my bed, and playing the only song that stops my tears from flowing. ...What good would that do though? Besides, me father loved that song...I don't think even it would help....Perhaps I should try to play something anyways...I know happy tunes won't help me now...Perhaps...Just this once, while no one's around...I'll play something that plays to these emotions...Perhaps what I need...What I need is.to.cry...
I walked over to the stereo, tucked away in the living room's entertainment system, and began to change out the cd. Turning it as loud as I could, without hurting my own ears, I play a song that calls to me.
How can I keep on this charade?
How is it I can be this way?
I want to show the sadness
in my soul,
but the more I try
the less that I can show.
The pain is still
Deep inside me.
The tears I feel
Just won't be shed.
What can I do
But to hide my feelings?
The ones I love
Must have their stone.
Do they know the way I feel?
Do they know my pain is real?
I cannot express it like they do,
Or else who can they look to?
How is it I end up this way?
When did this status come to stay?
Is it from
all of those days,
When our stone
had gone away?
Apart of me
seems gone for good.
Apart of me
has lost its way.
I cannot let
this be known.
The ones I know
must have their stone.
Do they know the way I feel?
Do they know my pain is real?
I cannot express it like they do,
Or else who can they look to?
How hard it is to be the stone?
What comfort must be shown?
I cannot give
in to break.
I can't forget
what's at stake.
If I lose my control,
I could those
that I know.
I still must be
their stone.
I think they know the pain I feel,
And know that my pain is real,
But without at least a strong one,
then nothing could be done.
My mother would just waste away.
My sister's mind would go astray.
I can't let that happen to them.
I must keep my feelings within.
...I must still be their stone...
The tears fell down my face, as I curled up on my father's couch, wishing he was still here right now. Minutes passed, as I just laid here and cried.
I hear someone coming up the steps. It must be mother.
I turn off the stereo, and then rush in the bathroom, and wash my face, and dry it. I try to hide the fact I had been crying, happy that it wasn't enough to know it wouldn't keep my face red. I came out, smiling at my mother. "Welcome back. Everything go all right?"
...
I thank you, for those who do read this. I'm actually just relieved that I could get some of this out. I know the song I wrote in there is probably horrible. I just kinda came up with it on the spot. If you review, I shall read it. If you don't, that is fine by me. After all, this is just a reliever of depression.