I love you is eight letters long, but so is bull shit. It's funny though, when you think about it. How you can love someone so much and mean nothing to them. How one person can make you cry so much for him and you know that he never sheds a tear for you. Then the unthinkable happens, the two of you are sitting together, and while your friends are off doing their own business and suddenly he looks at you the way you wish he would look at you, then the unbelievable happens, he talks to you saying how he feels for you... only at first you think he is declaring his love for you then you find out that he is rejecting you, trying to let you down easy because he knows how you feel. And that's when you find yourself where I am, alone in your room, tears falling down like rain, playing all you depressing songs, like songs by Hawthorn Heights , and Evanescence. As you try desperately and fail miserably to get him off your mind. Lying motionless across your bed you glace around searching for an escape. There. In the top drawer of your dresser... a glint of shiny, silver, cold metal... an escape. And the more you listen to those depressing songs, the more temptation increases.
As you stare at the thing that could be your salvation from all the pain that is welling up inside of you, the thing that could be your salvation from the pain that makes your tears fall as if there is no end. You can't help but think that it could hurt you more then how you are feeling right now. That, that little thing can do more harm then the pain inside of you. But of course you don't really care; you just want a way out. You want his voice out of your head telling you that he loves another, that you're not the raven haired, chocolate eyed beauty of his dreams, that his raven hair chocolate eyed whore is your own twin sister, Kikyou. Now with that knowledge that it is your sister, the one who you tell everything to. Who knows how you feel about him, who let you cry on her shoulder when you heard that he was in the hospital because he got in a car crash. Did she cry for him? No, she didn't, and yet he chose her over you.
By now you have gotten up and grabbed the razor still not sure if you should do it or not. If this little blade really could be the end of all your pain or only make it worse. The debate in your mind is like a raging battle, one side saying 'fucking it and just do it already. If it makes you feel better who cares if it's wrong.' The other side on the other hand is saying, 'No don't do it. It could do you more harm then what's going on right now. Don't hurt yourself in order to feel better.' But the side saying fuck it, happens to be the side that is winning the battle, as thoughts of you and him cross your mind as if pulled by some mystical force that wants you to think about what could have been if he felt the same you feel for him. So you hold the sharp, cold, blade to your wrist hoping and praying for peace. Right before the blade pierces your skin your hear the quiet call of your mother knocking on the door, claiming that she has your favorite WacDonalds meal... a number six, with a cherry coke, and extra large fry. You quickly hide the razor and get up and open the door to see the food and your mother with a look of concern on her face as if she knows exactly how you are feeling; when in reality you know that she has no idea.
My name is Kagome Higurashi and that is the beginning of my story.