InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Vastly Overrated ❯ Theoretical Maladies ( Chapter 3 )

Theoretical Maladies

Life is beheld according to the individual. Who's to say life is never fair? Life is fair. It's death that is not necessarily fair. In life the situations that come around are often seen coming a mile away, and if they aren't then that's up to those who don't see. The predictability of life get's odd, and vexing at times. Life is full of components... Leave the whom of your mother, live life accordingly to what it pushes at you and hope to hold off death until you've lived life to it's fullest.

Not that it's really that simple. Then again what is life but a short period of living before deaths' eternity. Then again, since no one really knows what death holds, except being dead of course, then death can hardly be fair... can it? Who knows if death is really an extension of life, or is it merely a catalyst of the end. Either way death is eternity. Either, you're eternally dead, or you're dead for eternity yet alive. Eternity is forever, death is forever... even if the world found a way to bring back the dead, it's still permanent.

No, death isn't as straight forward as life, though it has less twists and turns, and that makes it un-fair... You don't really know what to expect with death, and that makes it... that makes it... an element of surprise. And really, surprises like that are un-welcome... Terribly un-welcome. People cry when people die, and despite the belief that this is a simple fact, It is not. The reason that people cry is because of the unknown factor. Sure, they're sad and are upset about a loss, but the loss is not necessarily what one would think. It is the not so reassuring reality of knowing that you don't know for sure if they are dead, or merely living on another plane of existance.

Even in the daily life where you're being reassured , that the deceased are in a better place . No matter how religiously ingenious that you are, and no matter how adamantly you believe that they are in that place, you don't know. What makes it worse? Since you don't know, then you can be sure that you may not see them again, unless the situation is in your dreams. No, never mind that eternity means forever. The mourning is sometimes short lived, sometimes long... but either way, it's always a mourning of a loss of another kind.

Death is either the end, or the beginning that never ends. Nothing is really set in stone, and life is what you make it, but you cannot control death. Perhaps.

I sigh. Maybe... I sigh too much. I should start frowning more... yes... frowning . I attempt to mold my mouth into a frown, and by the odd look on the face of my mother, it seems that my frown is demented. I give up.

There is nothing to say but, well there is nothing to say. My mother is sad, and I can't say that I care too much. I'm not feeling anything at the moment. I should feel something. It's raining... I only know this because of the harsh beating against the hood of my rain coat. I should feel the rain, yet I can only hear it... I hear it from afar, and yet I am in it. Under it.

It had been a week since the business meeting that my father held in his study, and I have had free time for a while. I remember sitting in my art studio painting freely. I had been in my element. It was where I felt free. It was where I actually felt, without a painful stimulant. Then she came in... she was my grand-mama... she preferred to be called Mad'am Higurashi. I call her 'Rouba', which means "old woman" in japanese. I know it's disrespectful, but why should I care at this point. She was just as narrow-minded as the rest of the family. She, also, was hoping for another male to carry on the family line. To her, the more males' present in the family line and each generation, the more prosperity the family of Higurashi will have.

She despised me, because... I was supposedly taking the place of her grand-sons' . As if it is my fault that they had no real interest in the business.

The matron Higurashi had made her way into my studio, and dared to watch me work. I had said nothing and hoped that she would leave, and soon. She began to speak to me, and I was already at my wits end, but I managed to keep silent. For a while.

I barely listened as she ranted on and on about how annoying it was that I enjoyed to do artistic things, and then she proceeded to stand behind me and watch over my shoulder as I painted.

Not that she didn't do it without commentary, "You know, my brother Kenai did something similar..."
I listened. But I was still in my element. I hope she didn't think that I was going to forgive her. I didn't forgive my parents... why should I forgive her?

She just distracted me, and brought me back from my 'happy place'.

Is she apologizing ? I certainly hope not. Why should I care what they say, when they don't care and I'm in a whirlwind of depression... she can talk, if that is what she wants. "Just be aware that you are talking to yourself..." I mutter under my breath.

Though it seems that she's didn't hear me, because she's still talking. Then she manages to say what she really came to say, "Kagome, darling..." has she lost her mind? "I need you to understand that I don't hate you."

I gave her a look. I needed her to understand, that I don't care. I told her as much as well. She looked shocked, before she began to laugh histerically. I had almost thought she had cracked before she sighed and sat before me. She began to tell me how evil I am, and that I'll amount to nothing.

She told me that my disrespectfulness towards her was a sin. I told her that her hatred of me is a sin. She tells me that I'm hell bound, and at this I crack. What right did she have to say such things?

Next thing I know I'm once again alone in my studio, (she having left quicker than a cheetah on the hunt) and I'm nearly boiling with rage one moment, and the next I'm decidedly empty.

As I stand here, remembering what happened... how I acted... As I stand here at this funeral, I know my mourning will be short. I cared naught for the woman, and she was not a loss to me. My mother is staring at me horridly. I think she knows. I really can't make myself care though. Rouba had made her way away outside and into a limo before dropping dead. They say it was a heart attack.

I find myself lacking all of the appropriate emotions for a funeral. I could not find any guilt, nor sadness for her death. Her death brought nothing towards me in the way of feelings .

I zone out as the priest speaks of my 'grand mama' the old woman...

I was contemplating my life of contradictions...
I decided that a poem that I've read...

I am the psychiatrist, I talk to myself...
I am the door, I open people...
I am the ceiling fan, I get cool air from the hand...
I am the sword, people slash me...
I am the truth, I lie
I am life, I kill
I am a murderer, I save...
I am psychotic, there is no one as sane as me...
I am values, there are none of me here...

I walked into my room, the funeral was over. My family was avoiding me like the plague, and I welcomed the distance that they put between them and me.


As I stand before my mirror, in my bathroom... looking at my reflection, as I do the only other thing that makes me feel to a large degree. I cut.

Does life have to be miserable? Well, at least life has never lied to me. Not yet, anyways.

I smile bitterly. I remember what I said... what I said that made the Rouba leave as if the hounds were after her....

I feel no guilt, no sadnesss, no misery... only this bitter pain that is as sharp as a double edged sword...

My last words to my Rouba... my hateful grandmama whom was trying to make amends... My last words which I sneeringly said to her... were...

"You tell me that I sin, You say I'm bound for hell, So once your judgement condemns you, I guess I'll see you there."

I sigh.
Will my life ever get any better ?
Note my sarcastic tone of voice.

My life is full of those delightfully flighty highlights...

I hate this fact, but I don't care.

SHOOT ME. ITS FREE!
In fact... I'll pay YOU!