Kuchiki Aoki. Age? 22. Sick and tired of boring everyday life. Want to know more about me? I hate writing about myself.
My life isn't that interesting. I'd rather forget about it.
But anyway...
I was born in Sweden, but my father is Japanese. My mom's half Swedish and half Korean. So that makes me some sort of a half Japanese and
one-fourth Korean and Swedish. Confused yet?
...Look. If you really want to know and waste thirty minutes of your time reading this bullcrap, read on. But if you're just bored and looking for someone to piss off and critisize, get the hell out of this site. I don't care if you complain, tell me my life is boring and cliched.. say whatever you want. It's my fucking life, and I fucking do whatever I want with it.
Anyway, as I said, I was born in Sweden. But when I was four, we moved to Korea. My grandmother had some sickness and was dying, so me and my mother had to move there. My father stayed in Sweden.. for business stuff. Korea was good. Kids there were good. And the food!! Fucking awesome food! I love the spicy stuff... Anyway, we stayed there until I was eleven, because exactly on my 12th birthday, we moved back to Sweden (my grandmother died when I was 6). Life should have been good if we stayed there. Home study... I didn't need to worry about anything at all.
But my father's stupid business needed to interrupt my peace. We moved to America just a few weeks after we arrived from Korea (my father owns a huge Japanese company I don't know and care about). And I'll say this once. AMERICA SUCKS. I hate America. Stupid racists. If I ever see their faces again I'm going to beat the shit out of those kids. Dammit.
In my five fucking years in America, one of the worst things happened in my life. (Yes. ONE of the worst. The other 'worsts' are coming up.) My mother died of the same disease my grandmother had. I was devastated. I hated my father, blamed him for my mother's death. He never stayed by my mother's side... not even when she said her last good bye and held her last breath. He fucking thought that money could solve everything. And another worst. Five months after my mother died, my ass of a father married another woman, who happened to be his gawdamn secretary. I was against it, ofcourse. But that bitch of a secretary was pregnant, and my father said he needed to marry her in order not to ruin his reputation. Well, fuck your reputatoin. Fuck the both of you. Because I was such a nuisance to him and his new wife, he sent me off to Japan to study.
That was the worst of the worsts. I couldn't speak Japanese (my father talks to me in English or Korean). Fuck, it was my first time being on that island! How could I possibly survive on my own?! Me, a seventeen year old girl, all alone in a condo, with no knowledge about anything Japanese?! But hey, look at the bright side. He sent me money for tuition and everything. No letters, no phone calls, just fucking money. And I was contented. I spent all his money buying Shunya Yamashita PVCs, studying Japanese three hours a day, enrolling my self in Kendou and stuff like that, buying bundles of paper for origami... and I studied photography and fashion design in college.
Now, I've moved to a much smaller apartment near my job. And I model part time, too. I take photographs when I'm hired, but mostly I'm in my real work, a maid cafe. Yeah. A maid cafe.
Currently life's not as much of a bitch as it was these past few years. Hope it would stay like this forever.
Till next time? If there is a next time.
