Alaska

Honestly, it wasn't hard saying goodbye to America. By the time I dragged my final suitcase down the stairs my mother was already in

tears, surprisingly. My dad just stood there with a blank expression and arms crossed. I didn't say anything as I quickly walked across

the room and reached the front door. I placed my last luggage in the truck of my dad's old Mustang. As I shut it, I turned around to face

my puffy-eyed mother and expressionless dad. I didn't want to be the first to say goodbye considering I wouldn't miss them at all.

"Goodbye honey! Stay safe and don't go with strangers!" Mom wetly sobbed into my ear.

"Be smart," my dad blankly said.

Thanks Father, I won't miss you either.

I waved and apathetically "hugged" my mom. Sharing a look with my dad, I climbed into the car. 

I remembered when I first got my liscence. Dad taught me, it was his car anyways. I was surprisingly a natural, and I was glad my dad

wasn't yelling at me for once. After I learned how to drive, that became my escape. Hopping in the front seat and playing my mom's old

rock CD's. It helped me clear my cluttered mind and occasionally I'd pick up my best and only friend West. He'd sit in the passenger seat

and listen  to me complain and cry about another horrible fight with my parents. He's the only person I'm going to miss here in America.

I drove and sang along to Bon Jovi all the way to the airport. I lugged my two suitcases out onto a cart and entered the bridge that would 

take me to my birthplace, South Korea. Nine months after I was born, my family moved to America so I could have a better future. It's

ironic since they made my teenage years depressing and tough.  But it's whatever since I'm FINALLY leaving. I'm leaving the fake kids,

the pointless drama, the ugly selfies, and my parents. Nothing has ever felt this good. I'm eighteen now so I bought an apartment and will 

be attending the Seoul Univerisity of Performing Arts. Photography has always been one of my passions ever since I was eleven. 

Looking at photographs made me happy, and happy was all I ever want to be; besides the fact that photos never change, even if the 

people in them do.

After going through baggage check, security, and all that whatnot, I finally sat my tired and hungry in the terminal. I checked the 

clock. Six A.M. I yawned. I am NOT a morning person. My stomach growled so I decided to look around for a vending machine nearby.

Sure enough I found one; six terminals away. I got Doritos and ice tea. After my satisfying meal and fifty-nine minutes later, it was time 

to board. I looked at my boarding pass, economy class. Yay.

I absolutely despise the smell of planes. It makes me want to throw up, and Doritos and ice tea would not look pretty. I had to sit in the 

back of the plane. Once I got there, I discovered that nobody has gotten here yet. I call window seat and so therefore I plopped my 5'3 

self in there. A few minutes later, a pretty girl with long red hair stopped at my row of seats. She smiled and gracefully sat beside me. I 

awkwardly smiled back and turned away going back to staring out the window. In the midst of my thoughts someone cheerfully yelped,

"Hi! I'm Luna! What's your name?" I turned my body towards the other direction and came face to face with the red head. 

"Um... h-hi. I'm Alaska," I stuttered. 

"Alaska? That's such a lovely name. Wow," she breathed.

I dryly faked a laugh. "Is it? Thanks," I sheepishly replied. She went on and on throughout the whole trip. I got about only two hours of 

sleep because of her. She was gorgeous though, long, velvet hair with a skinny nose and small lips. But damn was she annoying. It will all 

be over soon, it will all be over, I thought. When is soon exactly?