Please help me with the essay! I need some comment! Thank you!

It's not the vocabulary that matters here. The problem is that the story moves at one pace. Slow down and dwell on the experience of cigarette smoking more -- the pleasure, the discomfit and (deep down) the guilt.  When Julie gets home and argues with her mom, she really feels guilty, but she does not want to admit it (slow down again) -- until she gets back to her room (that's when she realizess she shouldn't chosen the wrong course of action.)

Pleasecorrectme wrote:

How can i make it sound more realistic and with more feelings.  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Suddenly, I realised I had lost my way I was looking down at my toes. “Julie! Care to try?” Before I could reply, Nana stuffed a stick into my mouth. “Don’t do that!” Frowning, I pulled the cigarette out. Nana looked very hurt. “Why?” She asked. Nana is my fifteen-year-old friend; we had been friends since we were nine. “Just a puff will do, please,” I shook my head firmly. “How can you do this to me?” She cried. “For the eight years of my life, I treated you as my sister. We eat together, share secrets together and celebrate birthdays together! I am so disappointed in you, Julie!” I thought of the beautiful memories I had with her. “Fine, just a puff will do,” Nana brightened up. The experience was fun. Smoke choked my windpipes and I could not breathe. It was simply exciting! I smoked one more puff and returned it back to Nana. I was having the fun of my life. I felt so free and happy. It was midnight when I returned home. “Julie! Where have you been? I’ve been calling you since seven!” Mother stared right into my eyes. I got angry. “Just shut up will you!” I looked away from Mother’s eyes. Mum was stunned. She stood rooted as if she was a tree. There was no expression on her face. Her mouth was slightly opened, here eyes were completely blanked. Immediately, I stomped up the stairs to my room. “What’s the big deal? I came home only at 12! Did mum have to shout at me like this?” I was getting very angry. I slammed the door shut, stamped my feet loudly. How could Mum screamed at me like this? She is always nagging non-stop and I always hated it. I hate everyone! I hate my mother! I will never call her Mum ever again! Suddenly, I saw my photo album lying on the floor. It was brown and square. It looked like a brown tile. I picked it up unknowingly and flipped through the page. There was one picture with mother and me, I had this huge smile over my face and my eyes became two lines. We looked so happy. That picture was dated February, 1998. The next picture was Nana and me, we hugged an enormous teddy bear, and we laughed and squeezed the bear tighter. We looked so innocent then. That picture was dated July, 1999. Tears were dripping from my eyes as happy memories flushed into me. I felt happy at that moment. I was loved and cared for. Suddenly, I realized I had lost my way. I was walking in the wrong direction. I had to turn back immediately. I remembered the times I had with Mother, I was wrong to shout at her. I shot down the stairs and saw mother sitting on the chair. There were piles of tissue on the table. I was heartbroken. I ran across the room and stopped. “Mum, I’m…” I paused, “I’m…” Before I could continue, my eyes were blurred with tears. I choked on my saliva. Mum looked up. She stood up, walked towards me and placed me under her arms. “Julie, everyone makes mistake sometimes, nobody is perfect, and the most important thing is that you learn from it.” I cried even harder but at that time, I knew I was walking in the right direction. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Think about stories the way you think about a movie or a good TV show.  What happens if, say, in a story, a killer is hunting down the heroine?  Would you say: "She listened.  The killer was coming.  She loaded her gun and shot the killer as soon as he entered."

One second and it's over.  Now that's not much fun, is it?  What usually happens in a good thriller?  The heroine held her breath and hid in a closet, while she heard the killer walk from room to room, opening door to door. Then the heroine heard the cocking of a gun, and the next thing the viewers see is the killer opening a closet! (That's when our hairs stand...) But don't worry, wrong closet! (hehe...)

Granted, your story isn't a thriller, but the same principle applies.  With your story, all you need to do is dwell on the details (what Julie saw, heard, tasted, smelt, and felt, though you don't have to cover them all every time) in the crucial moments of your story. If you don't know how, think of a good drama or a story you've seen or read recently.