NO POS, NO FATTIES, NO ASIANS.
my frustration, to be seen on the same line as somebody whose HIV-Positive, to somebody extremely obese, and to something that is who i am, is looked at the same degree is just ridiculous. as if i had the choice to be olive-skinned and chinky-eyed, and most probably not have that big waddling penis that you'd be hoping ramming you up the ass or riding your tight but painful lips.
what the fuck is wrong with these people?
we all have our preferences, and yes, to each his own, but to completely say no to one thing, just proves how ignorant one can be in this god-awful shallow world we live in. there are hot asian guys out there, and not all may seem to fit the bill, but there are, in all races, somebody i'm sure that would do it for you. but no, you refuse to put up with us, because of what renaissance artists have always seen as beautiful back in the middle ages has always been stuck in your head. the greek gods, the chiseled-jaw, the curly auburn locks matched with six-packed abs, an overly-sized unnatural i-don't-go-to-the-gym-but-my-muscles-are-big-'cause-i-just-do look, and a very, very, average sized penis (which is somewhere in between 5.6" to 7" just in case you're wondering).
i guess this is where the idea of people wanting to look white started from, how having that sharp nose, thin lips, and apparently, according to a 19th century German Anthropologist Johan Friederich, caucasians are the most symmetrical, correct and best looking people on the planet.
it's sad. it's sad to be in a place where you're considered to be a minority within a minority.
putting myself down because of this is pointless, to feel bad, to pity over oneself is what i think one the most ridiculous thing one could do. i guess this is where my i-wanna-look-hot urges came from, i wanted to prove these racists wrong, that even though in general, not a lot of men would prefer asian men, unless of course they're extremely fat, geriatric, dying, and sometimes blind, that anybody could be attractive.
until you wither and die of course.
in retrospect, i've realised how i'm in constant battle with myself, how my principles would go against my actions. that despite expressing my utter abhorrence to the shallow quality of the world we live in, i would still endlessly spend at least four-hundred dollars every three weeks on facials, skin ointments, dermatologists check-ups, gym, protein-shakes, and bespoke haircuts.
my ex even told me that i'm the most high-maintenance person he's ever met. & i consider that as a compliment.
Mr. Schuhlmann or the Man in the High Castle, 80 x 100cm, 2009
by Matthieu Lavanchy
i don't like giving in to rice-queens because I know that they only want me because I'm asian. I wanna be liked for who I am, not what I am on the outside. and yet, i do this.
this is one of the few constant arguments that i have to deal with with myself everyday, and its exhausting. i wish i could just shut it all out. maybe one day it will.
blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah.
but yes, we tend to get lucky sometimes with our men by the way, so hope is still there.