Sunday, August 07, 2005

I don't know how to start this, because I don't know how it will end. What I do know is that things have gotten messy in between, and maybe it's my fault. In fact, it probably is, because the choices I've made are all my own. So I suppose the resulting recriminations are just that. Resulting.

Is it gone forever? What I know is that it'll never be the same.

The last shot, then maybe I'll know if it is time, finally (and as I knew, inevitably), to draw away. Maybe I do have a problem. But maybe I don't. I'm going, but I don't know how I'll feel - which is probably the worst part of it all. I hate this.

And you know, the next time you want to make racist jokes, bear in mind who you're with. Stereotypes may be fine, especially around friends who take it all with a pinch of salt. But calling some races dirty, and shuddering at the mention of a mixed relationship, is never acceptable. Maybe you forgot who, or what I am. And to you, who didn't make the joke, but laughed abashedly, as if you were afraid that if you didn't laugh, you would be laughed at, now I know your true colours. Do you know why I left when I did? Because it wasn't funny anymore. And because it hurt.

Yesterday I attended a beautiful wedding in kl. My mum's flowergirl was getting married. She's Indian, like most of my mum's side of the family - and the groom was Japanese. Remember that the next time you want to make or participate in a racial slur. I'm a product of mixed marriages. If you think we are "tainted", to use your word, then maybe you should stop hanging out with me. Or at least stop pretending to be my friend. Don't give me rubbish about liking me for the person I am, not the race I am - my race is part of who I am, and if you can't accept that, then well, I'm sorry for you. I have gotten past the stage, thankfully, where being called a mongrel to my face results in me dissolving into tears. I will never cry in front of you, or because of you, because your words don't mean anything to me.

The thing about the truth is, it's hardly ever what you want it to be.

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