My biography.

Born in D.C., raised in China, came back to the good ole United States seven years later. Which apparently, was just in time to get bombed by the enemies that Georgie Dubya has created through his war on Iraq. Not that I particularly care.

I am little enthused by politics and things that have yet to directly change my world, and as such, I remain ignorant and young. And yet, I am old, for I feel jaded. In my life I have travelled to the ends of the earth with a diplomat father, and met thousands of individuals, most of whom I can dearly recall.

I have felt isolation, much heartbreak, and underwent a self-imposed childhood of repression. Perhaps it is the Asian culture, or perhaps it is just the restrictiveness of family life, but I find myself to be quietly trapped in a prison-world that I have neither the courage to escape nor the courage to face an alien world outside my own festered misery.

I am jealous of the people who can live without my misery. I am jealous of the people who can choose to love another person, and have that person at least return lust. I am jealous of the people who live with more misery, for pain is inspiration. And the cancer of such jealousy makes me ashamed, because there are those with far greater woes.

Today, April the ninth, I would not protest in the name of halting LGBT discrimination, because the boy I loved--who did not love me back-- asked me to fight for the cause.

Three months ago, in January, I borrowed money from the girl I loved--who did not love me back--and never returned it.

Alas, how this reflects my bitter, old, jealous, hideous self. I don't look in mirrors anymore, because God knows what I'd find staring back.

//The Waker is my true love.

Update: Fell in love, got divorced, made a playlist, looking for someone to help me forget the pain...Odd, that...I normally prefer to remember everything.