My List of Confessions

1.) I haven't been cleaning out the cat litter recently, so now everyone avoids my cat's room.
2.) I haven't been sticking to my diet these last few days, I eat at least a bag of chips everyday (and maybe a few dozen cookies...).
3.) I'm scared of a LOT of things, for example, clowns, ghosts, heights, closed in spaces, spiders, snakes, the dark, masked people, mirrors, scarecrows...clowns....
4.) I never talk to my parents if I can help it. Because I end up sitting for an hour listening to them go on and on (imagine this in Japanese).
5.) These past weeks I've been having an obsession for a raise in my allowance even though my parents have raised it three times already (this is the one and only time I talk to my parents).
6.) Yesterday, while my sister was out with her friends, I sneaked into her room and dumped nail polish in ALL her magazines (in all shades of pink that exists).
7.) I read text messages more than I read books--which I normally read.
8.) Sometimes I feed my mom's flowers with apple juice....(Only when I'm annoyed at her though.)
9.) I always use hand gestures to my grandparents to my grandparents because apparently, they cant understand my Japanese anymore.
10.) I always buy razors and shave even though my mom says I cant until I'm fourteen.

I Look Through The Photo Album

because it reminds me of the times in Japan,

I flip to my favorite page,

me and my friend at the carnival.

We go there to escape,

from school, stress, and parents.

We don't go on rides today.

My friend's too depressed,

about a guy who rejected her.

We hang out at the water balloon stall.

The man behind the counter

impatiently waiting for us to do something.

I didn't read the sign. The sign that said:

CLOWNS IN THE CARNIVAL! STARTING TODAY!!!

I walk toward the hall of mirrors. Ashamed to admit I was bored of comforting her.

I walk around in the hall of weird mirrors. Like always.

Wait. What was that?

I trace my steps. Where I saw a flash of red.

A...clown. He's just standing. With a smile.

I gulp.

I stare

at myself. Wishing he'd walk away. He doesn't. I cant take this anymore. I scream.

I hear footsteps and "Little girl!!" called after me.

Burst outside. My eyes shut tight.

Keep running. I grab my friend and head home.

Flashes of red hair. Pale skin. Red smile. Ugly clothes. Flashing and flashing.

I put on loud music of rebels.

Whatever, it's just a clown....

The Tell-Tale Heart: Police

The police station was quiet. Just the occasional turn of a newspaper. I was staring at the oil lamp until we received a call from a lady. The ringing of the phone echoing in the dim-lit room. I derived it was something urgent like a kidnapping since it was the middle of the night. We picked up the phone. A lady was screeching into the receiver, stating she hear a shriek from the house next door. We succumbed after half an hour of her explaining what she had witnessed. And we agreed to take a look. I surmised it was nothing, just someone dropping a cup and shrieking I and two other officers climbed into the coach. The moon was shining eerily in the pitch-black sky, hanging there like an orb.

I grimaced when I swallowed bitter coffee that barley quenched my dehydrated throat; I coughed as we drove in to the darkness. We came to the first house and I made a cursory glance down the street. Nothing suspicious. We wait after we knocked standing on the stairs that were clad with snow. A man in red robes stood under the frame of the door. We ask if he heard anything. He nods. A shriek from the house down the street, he corroborated. We nod and said goodnight.

We went to the house the neighbour and the lady were speaking of. The house stood proudly against the dark sky, as if proving us wrong. It was a perfect house, other than some abrasions on the wood, stating that it's old.

I knocked on the door that simulated black ice. A man appeared smiling warmly, he looked as if he was awake for hours maybe. We ask if we could take a look inside, he welcomes us in as if he was waiting for us for a very long time. We walk gingerly into the house. Room after room. We enter the master's room last, where an inventory of precious goods were left untouched. We were satisfied.

We sat in the warm room and chatted as if we were all best of friends. The man looked uncomfortable allof a sudden, perhaps we should leave...but my partners were deep in conversation. The man stood up suddenly. Talking rapidly. Faster and faster. Grated the chair. Stomped on the creaky floor boards. I was alarmed at his actions. My voice fades away. The man looked as if he was ready to scream and run for miles. And finally. Finally he burst. Ripping the floor boards apart. Yelling. Louder and louder. Until a dead man with milky eyes lay. Stone dead.

Lip Gloss, Mascara, Hope

I sit in the classroom with my friend. "Oh, my gosh! He is totally looking at you!" I squeal excitedly. My friend, Lara gives me a sharp look saying "SHUT UP!" I instantly fall silently and look back at the boy who she's been crushing on for years. I've never been able to tell anyone how my other friend, Nathalie liked him too. And...I've always secretly thought Nathalie has a better chance with him.

Of course, I wouldn't tell Laura that, not in a million years. Another secret is that I've kind of, just sort of been helping Nathalie. Not anything huge like setting them on a blind date or anything,I've just been dropping little hints everywhere and helping Nathalie look pretty every single day for school.

"So...you think I've got a chance?" Laura whispers as the teacher hands out worksheets. Nathalie asked me this just he other day. I told Nathalie "Sure!" but then, that was the truth.... I look at Laura, who's staring at me eagerly.

"Sure! Of course! Why not!?" I blurt out, receiving a stern look from the teacher. Laura beams at me and I feel the back of my palms sweat. After a few weeks after that, the guy finally asks Nathalie out. I was there to both congratulate and comfort. Laura's still trying, trying and trying. I watched everyday, how she puts on a perfect smile, mascara, or lip gloss in the school bathroom. Not knowing that the reason she's wasting her time is because I was the one who gave her false hope and false security. The reason why she puts on lip gloss every 10 minutes.

The Way It's Always Been

Thump. Thump. Above all the kicking from my sister, I could just hear Charlie (my cat) whimpering sound in the sofa. He had ripped a hole in the sofa and was sleeping in it. And somehow, kicking the sofa was supposed to get him out, or so my sister thought.

"Stop it! Your scaring him!" I yell at my sister. Thwack. A painful pain shot up my leg as she kicked me with the same force she used on the sofa. Tears sprung to my eyes, and opened my mouth to yell at her. She probably knew what I was going to say because before I could say a word, she was pulling my hair like you would rip grass off a field when your bored...only with twice or three times the force.

She tried to kick me and wouldn't let go of my hair. I shut my eyes and clawed at her face with my nails. Finally, she let go when I started screaming louder in her ear. I pulled myself off the floor and ran to my room. Before I got out of the living room fast enough, I heard "Fur-reaak" sneered from behind me.

I shut my bedroom floor and buried myself in my bed. My cheek was still bleeding from where she scratched me, my head sill pounding from where she pulled my hair. All my life, I let her do whatever she wanted with me. We never tell on each other, after the fight we'd act like nothing happened. That's how its always been.

I consider telling my mom and back out. Consider. Back out. Consider. Back out. Consider. Back out. The same thing, again and again. I glance at my stomach where scars from past fights show. I wince when I touch my cheek. I've let this go on too long. I heave myself off my bed. Whisper about the fight to my mom. Instantly I feel better. As I hear yelling. I finally fall asleep.

What I Hope to Be

Staring at the calendar. No plan scribbled down. Just plain white boxes, A cell phone in my hand, my finger hovering over the "SEND" button. My past weekends on my bed. The clicking of my cell phone. The tapping of my computer.

I hear my sister slam the front door. Another party. The another shopping spree. Then a sleepover. I felt like her cell phone was a better sister than I am.

I look at my phone and the red light blinks. My Japanese friends text me. Sometimes I just pretend my phone isn't part of this world. But I can't resist. I look down. Want to come over? Want to come to the movies?

I'll say yes. I'll say yes when one day I'm sick and tired of my plain calendar. I'll say yes when I don't have to worry about what they'll say about me afterwards. I get up. But then stop. Laughter bounces my closed door. I roll my eyes and fall back on to my bed. Another day of being trapped in my own room.

I stuff my phone in a drawer. Where it continues to vibrate. Within it my contacts list sleeps. Hibernating even.

This year I hope to be more out going.