A letter to my father

I know there are a lot of couples like you. I know that maybe you think my life is a failure. I’m not pinning anything on anyone. I know that I have never had motivation or the endurance to do anything. To be honest you wanted me to be a doctor but I could never do it. Dad, your whole life revolves around your faith, and a lot of your faith comes from mom. To you, she could never do wrong. She was the alternative to the awful American woman.

But dad, I questioned myself; I questioned why I had these mental problems, why my brother also does so. I questioned why so many asian women demean and treat asian men like they are subhuman. And I realized that even if it wasn’t true about mom, the case remains that it is too painful to think that this life is worth living when I am perceived as less because of my blood. You know both my cousins, J and S, are either married or I relationships with white guys. They are exactly the type who would say terrible, terrible things about asian men; that they are not masculine enough, or too small. But dad, what about me? I’m half asian – so I must be worse than a white man, right? I neither have your height or your build or your hair, or your eye color; my body is oriental and my hair is too. It feels awful knowing that no matter what ones character is, he will be denied because women prefer the closest equivalent to a brute or a caveman. And regardless if it’s true or not, the incredible rate at which asian women out marry makes me severely doubt my self worth. Maybe they simply prefer more hairy, more masculine men, but that means that we, their sons, could never be like their mothers ideal, yet somehow “better” than asian men. Of course you can see the internal conflict here. Of course you can see why both of us drove you crazy.

It’s not your fault for what happened to me eventually. You were young and didn’t understand. So was I when I left America. But I did so because I felt unwanted, that I could never compete with the men there and could never find a wife when they pretty much all just want casual sex with the most masculine guy they can find, regardless of character. It hurts me deeply. But my wife saved my life. You never knew this; you can’t fathom a life away from god, but I have always been on the brink. I am not happy here, but what kept me going for all those years was a faint belief in god.

The ultimate pain came when I realize that the only reason I am alive is because of a hypergamous mother who wanted “whiter” kids and hated her own men, and that I literally am part of the extermination process of the most decent and upstanding group of men on the planet, fills me with both guilt and self hatred. On one hand I am thankful that I had an easier time on this planet free from overt racism but on the other hand I feel terrible, terrible pain knowing that there are so many women that would refuse me knowing my other half, and that refuse men because of their heritage, and that I somehow have it easier in life cause I am able to pass. I am overwhelmed with guilt and anguish at this, and a pure and seething hatred at the world. I hate asian American women with a passion for subjecting me and my kind to something like this, where we are still inferior after their breeding pogrom.
This deprives my life of any belief in god, and makes me understand that life’s purpose is merely for genes, the best genes to be passed along. Women know what they want and will get what they want regardless of how much we believe in god or how good men we are. Either we live or die; and through me, an asian man died. If that is the case then I want to die too,

Removing god from my life in this way is painful and something I can no longer deny. My only hope is my wife but my child will suffer in ways that I cannot imagine. I will accept and understand should he choses to end his own life. Last night I imagined the pain you would feel if I were to end my life since I am your hope now, because of how sick my brother is. I will try to postpone my death just because I don’t want to hurt you. But believe me, by this year 2014, I am already dead, well within the realms of suicide and mentally prepared to end my life at any moment, including right now. This isn’t for attention, just merely my way of escaping the pain, and perhaps teaching asian women a lesson.

Maybe there is a god and maybe the other side is better, but there really is no way of finding out, and maybe is better than this certain pain I face every day, day after day after say after day for so many years. I hope you can understand.

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