Whats the point of trying? I’m tired and worn out. And I’ve had more than enough of life. Still if I’m going to die, I’d rather die from real people and not internet trolls. Yeah, but I tried that game before. The thing is real people don’t actually solve any of my problems. Yeah I was happy with some of my moments in 2011. But they don’t really mean anything. I stopped reading all these angry PUA blogs. And for a while things were peaceful with the people I was seeing face to face. There wan’t this cruel, eternal struggle between sexes and races. We were just kids laughing. And I didn’t have to take all the evils of the world on my back.
But alas all good things must come to an end. Partially it was my parents fault. They are ready to promise me the world, when I shut down, but then I’m perky again, and things seem to be going well. And they get the delusion in their head, that I’m basically a normal guy, with a few quirks, and I can be a normal functional member of society, if they just push me a little. It turns out, I’m actually a house of cards. They push, I come tumbling down. And then they’re so shocked. I told my dad, that the best thing I can do to integrate, is to learn to embrace and accept American culture. What might look like childish fooling around to him, was my best chance of having a normal career. If I could learn to accept and embrace the values of White America, then I could work and enslave myself to her. But then I come full circle. By pretending to be a normal white american, it just becomes more blatant that I’m not one. And so partially there was a natural decline. My surrender to White America could only go so far. And it takes two to surrender. America has no use for me, even as a slave.
And so I had a beautiful letter, from a beautiful white girl, who had even kissed me. And I could have died with the letter in my hand, like a Young Werther. And it could have been a noble, romantic suicide. Not touched by the ugliness of SEML. But thats the problem. If the suicide is too beautiful and happy, its hard to go through with it. Thats not rock bottom. Thats not the true abandonment of all hope. Since there is still contingency. If not for a little misunderstanding, maybe we could have had that lunch date, she asked me out on. If it was really so close to happening, it seems silly to die over it. We can try again. There is beauty and good in this world. Maybe I’m not so bad, if she thinks that of me.
In 2014 I’m at rock bottom. There is absolutely no good in the world. No one will ever like me. Eurasians are ogres. Death would be a sweet release. There is no miracle to even hope for. Now I’m debating with myself, whether I should elevate myself, before my death. Whether I want to die with all this shallow ugliness. But its a lot easier to die in dirty ugliness than sublime beauty. When things are too beautiful, its harder to die. But its not like any actual problems are solved. So I have a little fun, but it has its natural limits, it can never actually go anywhere. And so the aura fades. The delusions of grandeur deflate. And I’m back where I started. But I’ve just wasted more time, and am lower than ever. And then I have to work my way up towards suicide all over again.
That would be the best case scenario here. A repeat of 2011. So I have my fun, flirt with some white girls. Always so near but so far. Just one little more push, and I can be a normal guy. But its always just out of reach. Then time runs out. I’m not bitter about it. I had my fun. I might even call these the best times of my life. And shake my head at what I wrote, and almost be glad that I lived to see this. That I could have had such happy moments after my suicide. And yet let me be clear here. Even in my best of moments, there was never an instant in which I could say like Faust “stay moment, thou art so fair.”
I didn’t commit suicide. and I could redeem that decision, and perhaps even my birth. If there could just be a single moment of time, I could be grateful for. I suppose my parents are the Mephistopheles to my Faust. They can have my soul, and justify my birth, if they can make me utter those words. “Stay moment thou art so fair”. And yet I never have.
When discussing suicide with my dad, he says “you’ve been happy sometimes”. He thinks hes seen me happy. But he never has. Hope. Hope has been my only joy. But hope is really a form of hatred of life. It is a hatred of life in the here and now. By hoping for a better future, you are casting judgment on the now. My hope was based on my hatred of now.
And so since I’ve been suicidal, and delayed. There has not been a single moment, in which I say, I’m glad I lived to see this. I’m grateful to past me, for not dying. It would have been foolish to have died and missed this. Its been quite a few years now. And not in a single moment of that time can I say I was happy to be alive. And we can extend it much further back to my very birth. There has never been an instant of time, I was happy to live with. IF a man like me shouldn’t suicide, you are saying that suicide is absolutely and always wrong for all people in all places. Men have committed suicide for much less reasons than me. I must be one of the most unhappy people in history. And you can point to people with objectively worse lives than me. People who had horrible things done to them, that I haven’t suffered. But their tragedy, comes from having once lived normal lives, and then being reduced to such horror. Even people in poverty, find love and mates, and have children. Only a tiny number of ogres, have ever experienced the universal rejection from humanity like I have. So you can point to the economic status of Eurasians, and say they usually come from middle class backgrounds. But people in poverty, they have their clan, kin, family, loved ones. They have their ethnic group. They will never suffer as atomistic individuals repelled from all other humans. This is something only the Eurasian male will know. We are the most accursed humans to ever exist. But our numbers are still rather small, and so its easy to ignore us. Perhaps it wont be so easy when the Hapa population doubling of 2000-2010, begins hitting puberty. I can’t say Hapas have endured the most physical pain. But I can say that Hapa males are the most cutoff from the human race, of any children who have ever been born. There are some psychological problems that just come with being mixed-race in general. But to be a half-Asian male born of WMAF, the psych problems just escalate exponentially.
I don’t know WTF I want to accomplish. If I try again, I will just fail again. Even if I’m happy for a while. It’ll still end with my back on this blog, whining and ranting, within a year. There is no solution to being Hapa. I can’t just change my race. Am I mentally ill for feeling about my race, the same way a transsexual does about her gender? Are all transsexuals mentally ill? You can’t say that either males or females, endure the same hatred based on sex, as Hapas do based on race. And yet they change their sex. Its 1000 times worse to be a Hapa man, than to be a white man or white woman. And yet they change themselves. So wouldn’t it be natural for a Hapa man to want to change his race? After all he never got to choose it. His parents chose it in WMAF. WMAF by its very nature just degrades half-asian men.
Dying doesn’t always have to be over something great and noble. It can be over something stupid. I admire that 13 year old girl, who got mean comments on Myspace, and just ran upstairs and hung herself. She had courage that I will never have. She shames me. She wanted to die and she did. IDK if her reasons were right or justified. But she felt they were at the time. She knew she wanted death, and she did it. I on the other hand have tormented myself for years. With all these
philosophical studies on the true nature of human existence. And I haven’t accomplished what she did. I might have had great reasons and she stupid teenager reasons. But she died of her stupid teen reasons, while I live with my great meaningful reasons. She died over mean myspace comments. It didn’t have to be noble or grand. She realized the sweet bliss of non-existence. Of eternal, dreamless, sleep. That is all I could ever ask for. And she has it and I don’t. Because she is brave and I’m a coward. She is determined and skillful. She wanted death, and she delivered it to herself quickly. While I who have dreamed about death for a decade, am so far away from it. She is superior to me in every way possible. This is why I said, I deserve to be a slave if I can’t suicide. Clearly I’m not functional enough to be a free man. Any slave who doesn’t commit suicide, is a slave by nature as Aristotle said.
And who says the pure, noble, rational reasons for suicide are the best ones? That would be something like Mitchel Heisman’s
philosophical suicide note. But our shallow society can’t understand his pathos. I think a Eurasian man dying from having WMAF parents, appeals more to our obsessions with race and sex. To society, a Eurasian suicide is the more interesting one. One doesn’t have to be spiteful or vengeful in suicide like Ashley Riggitano to make a point. Ashley Riggitano left her purse at her public suicide site, with a list of people banned from her funeral. The newspapers, of course cover all public suicides, especially of a beautiful young fashionista, and they published the full list of her enemies. Ashley got revenge on them with her death. One should be at peace at death, and not have any more enemies. There is no need to hate the people of this world, when you are escaping it anyway. For all I know, solipsism is true, and the world will end with my ego. I have never experienced existence outside my consciousness, so what do I know? If the universe ends with me, all this Eurasian crap, will be petty nonsense. But I do feel I should honestly and truthfully explain the hellishness of Eurasian life. People should know that this is how Hapa men feel.
I’m sorry there is so much evil in the world. Much of which has nothing to do with WMAF. But if the root of evil, is sadistic domination based on race and sex. Then clearly WMAF is a major symptom of the world’s evils. A relationship openly based on these evil ideas of submission. In that sense, I can say that WMAF symbolizes many of the evils of this world, and I embody them. And so in discarding my WMAF genes, I’m rejecting the symbolism of racial and sexual sadism. I’m saying that I incarnate many of the ideals of evil. And I can’t live with this burden.