Escape my reality

Chapter 1

Sleep deprived and exhausted as always, I closed my notebook and put my pen away.

That was enough writing for one day. I realized the moon was pretty today, fully glistering through my window. Moon, my name. 

My father named me Tsuki, he would always tell me that I am an introvert when I am around people I don't necessarily like and an extravert if I love you. "Just like how the moon chooses what part of the world it wants to show its beauty too." He'd say.

My father was a poet, unfortunately he died when I was only eight years old. He was my best friend and I could talk to him about everything, I miss him dearly. A single day doesn't go by that I don't think about him. Just thinking about the fact that he was dead, makes my heart skip a beat and my chest tighten.

Let me tell you a bit about myself. I am Japanese by heritage, but I was born and raised in Chicago. The city I hate oh so dearly.

With my twenty years of age I am the middle child. I have an older brother, Kaji and a younger sister, Mizu. We all live with our mother. She owns a Japanese restaurant here in Chicago and we all help out a lot.

I'm currently in my first year of college, I go to the University of Illinois at Chicago where I study Arts / Design / Fashion. On the weekends I work at our local library, we're not exactly rich, so I have too. I love books though, so I didn't mind working at a library. If out of anything, it's peaceful to have those few hours to myself, before returning home where a bunch of responsibilities await me.

My family thinks it's stupid that I choose an art course and that I am willing to settle for something with 'less job opportunities'. Even my mother thinks so. I guess I have my mother's looks, but my father's character after all. He and I would just paint and write sundays away and he would tell me about his childhood in Kyoto and teach me about Japanese legends. He'd understand my love for art. Man I miss him. My father thought it was important I knew about my ancestors and he was always telling me to be more open with people too. He worried that I wouldn't make any friends or find the love of my life because of how closed off I was and still am. Ever since he's dead though, it's the fear of getting hurt that's holding me back instead of shyness. I wish it were that simple. I wish many things honestly.

So I'm caught up reading books about hopeless love and Japanese art, to forget this filthy neighbourhood I live in. I write my pain away in notebooks no one knows exist, not even my mother. My heart aches for a land I've never even been to, but am from. Yes I want to escape this reality of mine. If I could, I would, but I can't.

So that's my life. I attend college, I work, fulfill my responsibilities and lay awake during night as I question what my purpose really is. Insecurities take a hold of me sometimes as an explosion of thoughts circle through my mind: What if my family is right and I'll never find a job?

It's especially times like these that I wished I still had my father in my life (or someone that simply understands what I have to say). Ironically, staying quiet all the time, caused my thoughts to become extremely loud instead.