pretty much all little girls love dolls, right? the tiny mouth, the slim nose, the big black irises in perfectly white eyes.
ever since i was a baby, my family and friends, sometimes even waiters and cashiers have told me i looked just like an asian ball-jointed doll. i took it as a compliment as it was meant, and happily slipped into the habit of wearing beautiful, dolly clothes and pastel-coloured wigs over my black hair.
until i was (forcefully) moved to america, i got sweet smiles from across streets and small children admiring my clothes from restaurant tables. it was sweet.
my life in tokyo came to a screeching halt when my father got a decent job offer in new york.
i was 9 when we left toyko.
i took my last glance as the plane ascended, way too fast for my liking. my last glance at the glowing city, the huge, bulb-lit billboards that could be seen even as high as we were. i could see the cars shuttling along the packed city roads.
i struggled to picture how new york would look over the roar of the planes engines and the chatter. i could imagine yellow taxis, huge silver buildings and...hot dogs? cliche tv stuff.
i had learned english at school, and i picked up languages and stuff pretty quickly so it wasn't a huge problem for me.
little did i know, there were things that couldn't be taught as simply.
dude. i never write in first person, and even less do i write OC characters. i don't think i've ever used an OC character in my writing before, everrr.😌
welp. i hope this was okay, there's a bunch of more chapters to come!
<3
oh, & most of my fanfics will be WWE, not OC characters. (:
