What kind of life is one of constant unhappiness? The people I deal with for work are passive aggressive, cruel, petty and driven by nothing more than the acquiring of titles that they can lord over people that they hate. They pretend to like each other to siphon resources from another, barely sleeping, barely taking a breath to realize that they treat others like shit.
It’s not right for me to judge, only to say that these people are different from me, in that they are driven by things that would never make me happy. For years I’ve know this, kind of drifting through life perplexed at how people can be so casual in their self destruction and destruction of other people; they harbor no qualms about demeaning and stepping over other people to get what they want.
This isn’t limited to Chinese or western culture, but uniform throughout. And in a way I understand it, people are driven to surpass one another where they fail physically, and the base desires and our physical beings, the only thing that really matters, ultimately, causes resentment and anger and jealousy among men and women, and so they lash out and become vile. My mother was self hating, yes, but ultimately, what she did for me was a favor, I guess, in which I benefited from some rare combination of genes that made me able to drift through life relatively unfazed, free to pursue my love and my longing for what I thought was god. After all, if I could have been so lucky, then why would there not be a god? And in this way I made a mistake, interpreting my own appearance and talents as something god given rather than something born from genetic luck. That’s what it is; everyone is just passing the time with their meaningless jobs, cutting each other’s throats for money and status for what? For what? Our fates are already written in our bones, like it or not, and someone like me, someone whose own mother made the choice to “upgrade” her children knows it better than anyone.
I am free and I always will be free. I have had a good life and from here on out I no longer feel the fear and worry I had growing up. Don’t you understand that without love, without beauty, without art, life is simply not worth living; what kind of life is it to struggle every day, to create nothing, to be a slave to money, the surrogate child of loneliness and misery? An artist, I’ve always believes, owes his life to his craft, and his only purpose is to make the world more beautiful than he found it. The world loses its beauty daily. It is overcrowded, noisy, modern and tactlessly built; this is hell for an artist.
I did it, my god, my father, my family I did it. I created. In my little corner of the world, I finally created something, as was my dream. If I can, if I can push on further, I will create more, but there is no promise my mind will still function as it has. I have fulfilled something most men cannot, in that I have created – not something for monetary gain, but for the purpose of beauty in and of itself. It is knowing this that I know that I can go to the grave content and without fear. How many young men and women are there, whose dreams have amounted to nothing? I am so lucky to even be able to do what I do, even if only for just a while. I do not promise myself that it will last, but I only promise myself to keep going as long as I can, to love, and to create, and to find peace this way. My qualm with the world is not that it is unfair to me, but that it’s unfair to so many people. I guess this far I’ve managed to survive by the skin of my teeth using, unknowingly, my appearance to my advantage.
I was a fool, and this is my fathers fault, to believe in god, and in believing in god I believed in myself and my own inherent self worth, which is nothing short of solipsism. So, maybe I did make a grave mistake, in assuming that my privilege as a white-ish person was god given rather than a conscientious choice on behalf of my mother, while billions of men would suffer terrible fates that I would never have to suffer, struggling every day just to garner respect where it is simply so easy for me because of my appearance. I was a terrible fool for falling for this. I even suspect that finding my wife was due to this, which makes it even worse. I suspect that my views on the US, and why I left it, out of disgust for the culture there, was rooted in my own privilege.
So, that being said, I am unable to grasp in my mind the sheer complexity of a world like the one we live in… Other than I know that I definitely benefit from some privilege. So it is without guilt that I will shut off my mind. It is an ugly world where people treat each other with horrible scorn, but up until this point I was able to enjoy some wonderful things, and have found love. I no longer fear death, only look forward to it. This is the honest to god truth. I look forward to dying. It is simply not worth living in a world that is akin to a virtual hell than to die; I will learn to appreciate the brief moments of happiness in my life and acknowledge that I am already a dead man.
And that, I guess, really brings clarity to my birth. It’s not got anything to do with patriarchy, as to why asian women hate asian men; it has to do with the nature of women to try to “breed up” into a class of people that enjoy a better life, and to define themselves among their own peers by having access to what they view as the inherently democratic and luxurious way of western living. Whether or not this is true on some genetic level, is up in the air; all I know is that I left the west because I found it too degenerate, and my father taught me to not approach things objectively, but to believe in god and that our lives will be improved as a result. But of course, it is easy, as I thought it was easy, to believe in god, as a tall white man whose life was handed to him on a platter.
That is the nature of white privilege from a man who has lived on both sides. Of course, I too was questioned for my heritage by whites, and turned down by women because I was asian, so to me coming to china was a natural choice. It was here that I came to understand the true inequality of the world and came to terms with my own heritage and parentage.
Now, knowing this, I no longer want to live. I just called my wife over and told her that without her I would have killed myself in 2010. This is certain. She saved my life so in a way I owe it to her.
There will be comments here saying that this blog is merely looking for attention, and maybe it is. I am just voicing my thoughts over time, as someone of mixed heritage, of someone of good conscience, of someone who RATIONALLY believes in suicide and intends to do so, and as someone who wants