Changes to be made

I’m listening to Chinese Poprock. There used to be this famous band from Hong Kong called Beyond. They were the reason why I first got into Chinese music. But it’s no use when I don’t understand a word they sing. The Chinese tend to sing in metaphors and use cheesy poetry to express trivial and generic things. It’s a waste of words, really, but not in Chinese pop culture. My mother tongue is still unique, yet I don’t excel in it. However, I regret not having learned my language properly. I was born in a different world–a western one. I would have become a different person if I’d been born in Hong Kong. I often think about that. Still, I prefer the me that I am now.

My psychiatrist says that I have Chinese blood, and that will always stand out. I raised an eyebrow at that. That is probably why it had always been so hard for me to adapt to my school environment, he said. I was not just standing out; I was isolated. Or I isolated myself reluctantly. I never really perceived myself as Chinese. I thought I was just like all the others – pale-faced, blue-eyed and blonde, of Viking descent. It never occurred to me that they viewed me differently.

At school, it’s common to bring candy when you have a birthday. I used to bring lots, i.e. chocolate, hard candy, and marshmallows. My dad would pack them beautifully in one plastic bag for every single kid. That was when they paid more attention to me and tried to make friends with me. But the day after, they would have forgotten about the sugar.

I never used to eat at school. I had a phobia of people watching me eat. Philip K. Dick was the same; he found it barbaric to eat, especially in front of people.

Nowadays, I don’t mind it, but I can’t eat big meals like a kebap or a massive burger in front of a man because it looks disgusting, un-feminine. It’s a turnoff. Imagine greasy sauce around your mouth and greens sticking between your teeth. Generally, I get nervous when eating in front of a man, especially if I don’t trust him or think that they have high expectations.

It’s about trust–yes, it’s starting to piss me off too. Why is it so hard to trust people? I used to trust people easily, but now…? What’s more interesting, I don’t trust my guts, which are prone to spontaneity, impulsiveness, and I don’t trust the voice in my head, which I call a lack of self-respect, and I don’t trust my heart, which is self-denial.

This needs to change.

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