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Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have parents that speak English.

That we can talk about celebrities, place names and things that happen in Western media.

So we can understand and talk about a song on the radio,

Or my parents and my friends parents could talk to each other,

That my parents and I could talk about cafes and food and they can order what they want instead of me translating and ordering for them,

Or that we could watch TV or Game of Thrones together,

That they could read their own emails,

So they can understand my jokes,

And I could show them Youtube videos and vines,

Or that they could read all the stuff I’ve written before and see that I’m actually good at writing,

And explain to them what I actually do for my job.

That I can tell them “my heart is beating out of my chest and I feel so anxious and I have anxiety attacks” and not have to say it start and stop Chinese and English.

So that I can ask them, do you value my happiness more or our image of success?

Do you know how much your expectations keep me chained to situations that make me viciously unhappy?

Why can’t you understand that I want your support and why can’t you tell that NOTHING will happen if we don’t conform to Asian society’s norms, and who gives a fuck about what they think?

But let’s be honest, I love that my parents can’t speak English.

Or else they would read my blog lololol

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