Christmas=Guilt

I wonder if I will get presents for Christmas? Will my sister still give me presents??? Will my parents get me those expensive Pajamas?? I didnt know. I love presents more than anything! The surprise that's waititng to jump out of that neat little box, the feeling of how you know that it's your and not some shop's! I always think that I have been bad, and dont feel that I deserve this wrapping-paper-coated present!!! Do I? Or is it best to give and not get? But what about those things i could never get on a normal day?? Now I'm getting confused...
But this Christmas, I'm going to be greatful for what I got. I'm not going to go around feeling bad on Christamas!! I mean sure there's plenty of children who want these clothes or that new ipod! But this time, it's going to be about me. Yes, I know-I sound like a spoilt brat that wants everything. But I mean, I have problems too!!! My dad doesnt get thousands of dollars a week! I dont get everything I want when i go shopping!!! Holiday seasons are the best time I could feel like those rich people!
From now on, no more feeling bad on ny birthday or Christmas! It's time to get, and not get guilt, but pride and happiness! It's Christmas; and I'm going to enjoy it!

Movies Are'nt Life

I always wonder what people would say if I shouted back to them. I always watch celebrities on TV, always shouting back to their parents or to people who were even older than them, they would shout at men who were big and tough looking. I used to adore their bravery. I just looked up to them, thinking they were real people having ordinary lives, like me. I wonder if I would be brave, just like them.
But of course, that was a movie, on TV. The TV screen that keeps us inches away from reaching out the the movie star world. They showed so much potential. It made my spirits light up. But that was not real. People would pretend to get beaten up, showing us the scariness of life, but I wonder what would happen if I took chances like them, I wonder what it was like to hav so many chances.
It was just a movie, inches; like the TV screen, to become real.
So, I did take my chance. I was on a train, to the heart of Tokyo; because I needed to go shopping. My mom was sitting by the window. The train was cramped and hot; buisness men were wiping their necks with an expensive looking handkerchiefs, the train had a whole aura of cologne, hanging in the air. My stop came, one man pushed me, like I was expecting. I was always being pushed and pulled out of the way, I whirled around and said,
"Watch where your going!" as best as I could, but to my horror a fat man with a beard like an upside down broom, was standing there, it was just like in the movies, i thought. But it felt much , more nerve wrecking. The man glared at me, with 2 beady eyes. Glittering menacingly, I squeled, like a little piglet trapped in a slaughtering house. My mom was already off the train. It was just that man who was blocking me, and there were a whole lot of people, pushing to get out.
RRRRRIIINNNNGGGG! The bell went once, the train door was about to close on the 5th bell!! I looked around, my mom was looking for me outside. I searched for another door, but all I could see were people, and more people. Oh! Thank GOD!!!! I was saved!!! A door revealed itself from the midst of people! Absoloutely magical!! I wondered as I darted for the door, as fast as a rabbit would run away from it's predetor.
I saw the man stride to the door, but the 5th bell had rung, the doors closed with a clang. He looked so frustrated, it was horrofying. I found my mom and told her what happened. She was abit annoyed that I was being rude, but it was great that I escaped.
I guess all movies arent what they seem to be!

Forest Of Buildings

I'm a piece of Japan. Not afraid to stand up for racism. Always have a plan, in my head, out my mouth.

Dont care how different I look. Dont care how different I act.

Got my head in a book. And proud of being a book worm. I'm firm, when I'm pushed in a line in a mall, of a great shopping center Japan spreads the news about.

The city is packed; but I've got what I need it's all in my pocket. A little Tokyo in there.

I get all my seasons, in a year. Love my Country its my favourite so far. No country can beat them. No country other than Japan speaks our foreign language. To me it's like a mythincal language only a few no about.

Not afraid to stand up for racism. I can handle it all. Like a girl from Japan; I'm polite and shy. I stare out the lights and action, cars beeping everywhere. Got used to it? Not yet. My strange lullaby that comforts me; telling me I'm home.

Home is where everything is. Got my street light, got my construction sights. All my shops, all my computers, all my staionary. And evrything I need to survive. Got my family, got my friends, got all the electricity I need.

Japan, not known because of it's manga, or Nintendo. No, you havent seen everything yet. Japan. Known for its people; the people that make it a country. I'm one of them and going to stand up for it. I'm no bragger. But a citizen of a great country, that no one can be racist about. Go ahead, be racist. And you'll get a bit of what I think. The wind swishes this way and that. Telling me where to go, telling me where I can trust. I trust my city. The wind. The sky. The streets. The lights. The people.

No one can say bad about Japan, if they do, they're insulting everybody in Japan. Let me remind you. That's alot. You dont want to mess with them!

What Keeps Me Writing...

I liked imagining things ever since I could remember. Whether I was inventing some game or a story. I was always day-dreaming. And once I started 5th grade, I wanted to put my thoughts into a story or some form of writing. It makes me sound like a real show-off, I know I could be one sometimes! But anyways, I keep writing because I get homework, and I think it sounds boring at first, but I actually get really into it.
I'm no good at socializing or math or science or maybe even english. But I just like to do it by myself quietly, so I'm not in a tight box labeled "Homework" and I just like to do it because it keeps my mind busy from all the things I should be worrying about. It just makes me worry about lame things like punctuation and spelling. But what really keeps me writing is because it spills my thoughts that were crammed into my head.
It's just as if you have a new mind and can keep going with everyday things, knowing there is'nt going to be anything that you cant do. Writing is just like doing something you love. I'm not very good at it like everbody else, but I still do it no matter what sort of bad comments I get.
It's for emptying what's in there, dying to be known.
It's sort of like my personality for instance, it's not like I like being some sort of weird person who is just there, wasting space. That's where all my thoughts are, they're all there, just like I said.
So, that's what keeps me writing. Probably like everyone else says.

I do it for a fresh start!

Permanently Different

Dear Nashiya,

I haven't seen you for years now. Why don't you ever answer my e-mails? Some friends are a total sham and they don't like you...I hope your not one of them. Sorry this is irrelevant to what I'm talking about, but Christmas is precisely at least 80% better than my birthday. I know it's weird.I scavenged for things that looked good, but nothing!!! I hope you heed my advice in replying soon!

Your letters correspond in every way! You used to be so illustrious at school. Now you dont even brag. What's wrong Nashiya? Why cant you tell me? Did you become indifferent to the fact I'm not with you anymore? Have you began to antagonize me? I thought you had adequate kindness. But I dont supervise people... Maybe you need a respite, or maybe you became suddenly illiterate. I better just stop. I sound as if I'm an agent, desperate to acquire some juicy gossip!

Just remember I'm always here for you no matter what!! Dont fluster and keep your chin up and you're fine!! One could be permanently different right??

Your Friend, Mari

Her Disappointment

She cried into her pillow. I invited her over to my house.
She cried and told me she’ll come. I watched her cry her eyes out.
I keep saying he wasn’t worth it. All the girls are crazy about him; she was his ex-girlfriend. She says he’ll come back to her; crying as well. She waits.
We both wait. Expecting him to knock on the door, holding flowers. No one comes.
She cries and cries, at school she’s like a robot that has to be doing the same thing everyday. She tries not to show it. But everyone could see her tired eyes. Red from the tears and purple right under the eyes because of no sleep.
She repeats that she is okay; she repeats it even when no one asks. I pat her on the back.
She looks out the window from her room. Not leaving to go eat or drink. Fearing he might come for her and she wasn’t there to see him. She laughs it off everyday. Then she cries and cries. Same thing every time.
He struts around as if she never existed. She glances at his direction all the time.
Always trying to look pretty everyday. She looks worse after she cries near her window. The trails of her mascara. Trails of her disappointment.
She always wonders out loud.
“How can you love someone who doesn’t love you back?” and laughs, knowing she wasn’t in love. But the same things go on, everyday. Night and day. She wont stop her hunt. Disappointment is the only word for her love life.

The Shopper Who Came Out Of The "Box"

I absolutely like shopping. It makes me sound really bratty and spoiled, but it's true. I might not have the best clothes in my wardrobe, but thats why I started shopping. Ever since my sister told me I had terrible fashion sense, it struck me to think that she was actually right. I began my first shopping spree with my best friend, Nathatlie, she chose the most fantastic clothes ever!! I felt jealous and looked into my wallet, I had a nice amount of 80 dollars. I started with a few nice shirts with glittered sequins on (they all dont fit me anymore though..) and greedily smiled.

My friend was happily shopping when I pulled her over to shop after another, taking bags and bags of hand bags, shoes, pants, scented candles (its weird but I like shopping for those things), fluffy cushions and ended up with a new speaker!! Nathalie stared at me in shock and looked down at her pile of clothes; a neat pile of shirts and jeans, 2 of each. And she made me look at my messy pile; clothes, shoes like I said, were spilling out of their shiny, smooth, glossy paper bags. It makes me happy just to think about myself carrying those beautiful bags containing the most brilliant things that would be added into my closet. Yes, surprisingly it's not like I'm trying to be 'Little Miss Perfect' or anything at all. I guess my longest record of shopping is 6 hours I guess...But I'm not sure if that's a record out of all those shopaholics out there, I just seem to be a gold fish in a group of dolphins in a tank.