All right, this isn't a self-insert nor is it one of those stories with a goodie-two-shoes charater pairing up with Ritsu because he's sugar sweet. He's not, I promise. Just on the honest to the point of cynasism side. And, he's got weird hair.
Dear Moving Journal,
I'm recording my move back to Japan from Cali, and getting settled, inside of you, poor little notebook. Be prepared for the truth, the whole truth, and being radomly kicked across the room.
So, to make up for that, I'm going to tell you a secret. I HATE my first name… Well, not so much the name itself, as how my parents, and the kids I was forced to play with in school, used it. Like they were meaning something else when they said it. 'Rit-chan,' forced as if they were really wanting to say "Hey, die you little shit. No one wants you."
So emo of me to think that way, hunh? Well, my parents were forced to get married cause Mom got knocked-up by Dad. Oh well, I don't really care if they want me or not (Come on, I'm 22 and being relocated by my job.), just that they were so fake about it. Therein lies the entire problem. I wish there was at least one person who could be totally real about what they think and feel. My friends are pretty close, but still.
That reminds me, one of those friends (and for her, I use that term loosely, Damn Kitty-Kat) gave me an address to visit after I'm settled in. Said someone there would interest me. The girl in the picture is pretty cute, but I wonder how her personality is – as I said, I hate fakes.
But, well, maybe I should keep an open mind. Never know.
Until I'm in Japan,
Tsuba
P.S. If you're happy and you know it go get me a beer.
...And... Chapter one will be up on Saturday...
Please review because I'm needy and whatnot. (I'll beg if necessary)