But this will be the issue that destroys me.
When I was younger I started to wonder why western civilization didn’t value the arts anymore, and I spent a lot of time obsessing about architecture. You know this well. My major in school was the history of architecture and I did so even though it would make me unemployable. I’ve always yearned to be an artist and now at 28 I have little in a way of a career because of my depression and low self esteem. I reached a point in which I would be in tears when an old building was torn down and replaced with a glass monstrosity or tepid uninspired modern junk. I wrote a number or articles to newspapers and actually cried; I wanted to end my life at that point too. Depression runs deeply in my veins and for all intents and purposes my mother killed herself too. She wasn’t well. The only thing that kept me going in those days was some odd faith in god, which I thought helped men at one point build beautiful buildings to make his environment more pleasant. As I got older I realized that the world is geared to becoming more ugly as money is the only inherent value as is sex. If anything the world is an atrocious place that immediately disadvantages some and offers nothing but benefits to cruel and awful people who did nothing to deserve it. It’s not that I don’t know the world is unfair. I could easily have played my “white side” to my advantage but my natural weakness gave me sympathy for asian men. When I came to china I was convinced that I was white and I left the west out of a terrible sadness that the west no longer valued beauty, and at that point I had given up on my desire to live there. I surely might have been able to find a white girl – not that it mattered her race – but I was disillusioned by how casually people cheated. After I came here I surely would have wound up dead if it wasn’t for my wife as I found a woman who values character above anything.
But it’s not enough. I can’t help but wonder if my appearance makes me better than the local Chinese, pitting one half against another. I now realize the truth of my parentage and the pain I feel is immense. I am an artist. I feel a constant sorrow and I doubt I will be able to outlive my father. I feel physically ill when presented with the atrocity that my parents were and am reminded of my own hell every time I get stared at on the street. I leave the house once a week at most and am devoting all of my time to my work because I am emotionally devastated,
Thank you for reading my readers if you are out there.
I know many would say that I’m only looking for attention but I am extremely serious in that I must appear clearly mentally ill. My brother is; he’s schizophrenic and can’t work. I can hardly work too. I guess if I get around to it I will talk about my parents. I am also making up no lies about my wish to end my life. I have already chosen the method and recurring thoughts are dozens of times per day. I feel zero investment in this world and am mentally prepared to ending myself. If there are any people out there who sympathize and or agree with me, may god bless you if there even is one. I just hope that my writing can maybe inspire you to call out evil behavior where you see it and to recognize the great trauma that these sadistic racists inflict on their children. In a way my family line is already dead. My brother won’t have children and I’m not sure if I have kids if they will be able to survive.