KYOKO HAS A BLOG.

Little Sister.

Being the little sister to predominately all brothers really means you’re the cousin three times removed who has overstayed their welcome. I suffered all forms of tortue from my action figures being glued to my ceiling to decapitated teddy bears. One day one of my brothers broke his arm resulting in a very unnecessary cast that took up half of his upper body. It looked like he had a log on his arm. During this time my nana would give me a $1 for every good grade i brought home, i was an overachiever with an arcade addiction, good grades fed these addictions. I used my last big of change from my piggy bank to purchase itching powder from this gag store that was by the arcade. While my brother was sleeping, i snuck into his room and poured the itching powder down his cast with a drinking straw. I lost one during operation itch motherfucker itch, which made me re-evaluate my entry point so i figured i’d just dump all of it over his cast like pixie fairy dust. I tip-toed away back into my bed, looking at the Snake Eyes action figured that was glued on the ceiling above my bed. I whispered to him, “we will have our revenge” as i turned over to snuggle my headless teddy bear. Thirty minutes later the entire house heard screaming bellowing down from my brothers room. I was more disappointed that it took that long, I gave that man a lot of dollars for high end itching powder. My brother was laying in fetal position on the floor, crying in agony while trying to stick everything imaginable down the cast to relieve the pain. He was probably moments away from gnawing off his own arm. My dad had to take him to the ER to get his cast cut off, the doctors said he must of developed a rash somewhere that set off an infection. Hours later when we got home i didn’t fess up to my crime. Yeah the guilt lingered over my head because he could have seriously gotten hurt worse. But at 8 years old, i had enough decapitated teddy bears and power rangers to soothe the guilt. I think he knew. My brother knew i did something to him. He was actually scared of me. They all were. Here i thought my brothers would grow up to be serial killers and all along they thought their little sister was the actual psychopath. It wasn’t because of the actual act, it was because i sat in that hospital waiting room smiling. Cheesing from ear to ear. Nobody fucked with me or my shit after that. I still got them scared 20 plus years later. Don’t fuck with your little sister, dude. 

Sometimes i feel like i’m doing life wrong.

And i know it feels that way just because i’m doing it differently than most people. I go with the flow. Gut decisions rather than sensible ones. People feel like homes, houses and apartments feel like dead ends. I suffocate with routines, and struggle every day with wanting to go off the grid for years because i know it would completely kill my father. 

I want to disappear. I want to throw my book bag over my shoulders and never return. This world is so huge that i’m constantly awake wondering to myself why we feel like we’re meant to only explore the things we see on our way to work. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. 

So i’m struggling. Figuring out how to just, soar without leaving those few behind. I have tunnel vision. I only want to see ahead and trying to learn that looking behind doesn’t always mean i’ll get chains on my feet. I get this acceleration going where it looks like i’m running away when really i’m just.. being who i am. I want to constantly learn, travel, grow, be open, and change what i want to do with my life. I want to have the option, the freedom to be indecisive. 

I want to give something back to this world, make an impact, even if its so insanely small that no one else but me will notice. And i just don’t see that impact in the life plan i see most people living or the one people wish i wanted to live. I’m not looking for something, i just really enjoy selfishly looking at everything. Wrong just happens to be right for me.

It probably always will.