Please remember that Hong Kong is just a 7 years old Asian boy with well, more or less, my level of broken English. Thank you.

Betaed by Blind Alchemist, my dear beta and grammar teacher, LOL.

Enjoy.

My name is Hong Kong.

I am 7 years old, almost going on the eight.

He stopped writing. He didn't know what else to write, cursing the homework demand of his second grade homeroom teacher, to make a diary every single day, to be collected every single morning, and marked by the afternoon to bring home and be continued.

He always started his diary explaining his name and age. His teacher had told him that it was unnecessary, but Hong Kong didn't know what else to write; thus he was trying to fill some space.

He turned back the page. It had already been quite a while since the semester started, so the book was almost half filled. The first page was the simplest, because he just wrote his name, his parents' names, his age and his address.

As time flew by, everything was harder. What should he write? His teacher's instruction was too unclear—everything, she said. Everything that you think, anything that you feel, something that you see the first time you open your diary.

So Hong Kong started to write about his alarm clock, with its Shinatty chan shape and with its Shinatty chan pictures creepily smiling inside, courtesy of his mother.

His mother's voice could be heard from his bedroom door.

"…Why do you come back home so late, aru?"

My alarm clock is a Shinatty-chan-shaped, pinkish digital alarm clock, with Shinatty chan pictures.

"… I told you, it was for work, Yao! Why do you need to be this jealous over him?"

Hong Kong tried to close his ears, continuing and concentrating on the Shinatty shaped clock his mother was so fond of.

Shinatty chan is a cat shaped creature who has a weird mouth and a scary expression. He is mother's favourite…

"… Because you keep going out with him! He is your nephew, right? Why do you need to care for him that much, aru? He is not your son!"

…Maybe even more than mother likes me. Because I am not a cat shaped, cute and lovely alarm clock. Or towel. Or plushie. Or blanket.

"…Why are you so hung up on him? Alfred is just my co-worker slash drinking buddy! Aren't you the one who is calling the kettle black? I know you are still in touch with your ex-boyfriend, Ivan!"

And father so very hates this creature. Because Shinatty chan is everywhere, even inside the toilet—mother loves to buy the shampoo and soaps, and use the towel with the picture on it. I don't care…

"… And I have cooked so much! Can't you appreciate me better, aru?"

… but maybe I do care. I am a boy. I want to have something else. Like a Superman blanket.

"… But the only thing you cook is Chinese food! I am sick and tired of it!"

The door was slammed. Hong Kong sighed. He knew that his father would go out again and his mother would be very angry and lock himself in the room. And the dinner would be on the table. So he needed to eat dinner alone again.

And he wrote one last sentence:

I wish I were not human. So I don't need to eat, and I don't need to eat my dinner alone.

I wish I am Shinatty.