A: I hate my parents, but I also like them. I hate my parents, but I also miss them. I miss what we maybe potentially could have had, but never actually did have, or ever will have. Perhaps by the time we all finally let go of how everything should be, we can finally have what we could have been, or will be. I guess we will see. I’m not sure how that will happen, I’m not sure when it will happen.

Most East Asians I’m friends with between the 27 and the 38 year old range have issues with their parents. The more different the kid is from their parents, the bigger the issue is. I’m not sure if these communication issues are really all about communication, I think they are about trust. I do not trust my mom, and I do not trust my dad. I do trust that they might have the right intention, but i do not trust that they are honest.

I like my dad as a father, I do not like him as a person. I have a rough idea what sort of family I’m in, my dad’s in, my mom was in, my grandparents were in, and it’s a very complicated history, to the point I’m not sure where to begin. I never thought the family history was anything worth looking into, until I realized it was tied to all of recent Chinese history just like everyone else’s. My grandparents went through so much, my parents generation had it a little bit better, and my generation either fled or got depressed. I’m the first one in my family to be free-ed from all the silence and anxiety, and that’s why it’s hard for my family to understand.

Is this okay? Can you do that? Are you sure it’s okay to do this? They always ask me. Yes, this is okay, yes you will be safe for saying that or voicing this, its all very normal, and no we don’t work overtime, yes there’s PTO, but not in my line of work unless you work as a staff in a studio, which i’ll never do, yes I could find a tech job, no I probably won’t.

What does that mean? It means I can do pretty much whatever i want, but not everything, because there’s always a catch, the catch is you work harder than anyone in return, and no there’s no secret sauce, there’s no sauce, all there is is hard work.

But you’d be happy and free, which means, you can feel you heart beating, safe and sound, it means, you can feel the wind breeze, and feel happy, it means that anything can make you happy, and anything will make you happy, because life is already hard, the world is already fucked, what sort of pressure and pain must you bring on to yourself and each other? It’s not worth it, nothing is worth the peace. True, peace. All these war, and history, of people getting into deep shit fighting for petty self-reassurance and ego, It’s not worth it, nothing is worth the peace.

B: I hate my parents, but I also like them. I hate them for not being more honest, but at the same time I understand. I watched this documentary at SFFILM 2025, called Remember Us, Sudan, they showed a guy’s recordings throughout Sudan, on its citizens' attempt to democratize the country. Civilians were killed casually, yet no one knew about it. At least definitely not me. When I asked ChatGPT about the current on-going war in the world, Sudan didn’t come up, but from what i saw, that was very much a war.

The protesters were rallying up in public plazas and reciting poems of protesters who came before them. They would sing, they would dance, they would play music, and they would paint the ones passed on the wall in memory of them. Most of the interviewees ended up fleeing the country, perhaps this is just how it goes, flee or stay and fight.

C: I guess people either flee, or they learn to survive. I can understand that, when you can flee, you must do what you can to survive. It’s still hard for me to understand the level of perseverance my parents / grandparents generations went through. Without them, there would be no me.

It’s hard to take life lightly, but it’s also hard to not take pain lightly. Is pain bigger than life? Or life bigger than pain? End of life is end of everything, there will be nothing. I guess it doesn’t make sense to look forward to nothing. If it is the end, there’s no possibility. I guess life is bigger than anything. Life is bigger than ourselves, our objective feelings.

D: I sometimes feel self-conscious about how small my hands and feet are, especially my hands. I’m worried it’s some sort of generational trauma. Not that long ago, women of prestigious families wrapped their feet in mummy / zombie like bandages, to the point their feet get deformed. It was considered noble, something only a rich family’s daughter can do, because itinsinuates the lady never had to farm or work. Like my grandma’s mom. My hands are tiny, it’s not because of my mom, but probably because my grandma from dad’s side. My mom’s hands are long and healthy, when my hands could barely cover one octave on a piano. I was told it wasn’t for me, I believe what I was told, until I learned that Yujia Wang had the same experience. Except, her family could afford the piano lessons, and regardless of regardless of whether she’d be a pro. 

I knew my grandma’s parents owned land, but I’m not sure how much. It was perhaps equivalent of a plantation because apparently her family was evil enough to all of them abused physically and emotionally, and eventually lethally, with at least one suicide in the house. Maybe more, we didn’t get too into it, i was like 12 or 14. Her maiden name was Mao, same as the Mao we know. I don’t want to find out if they knew each other, maybe when I’m ready later.

E: I like my mom as a person, but I do not like her as a mother. I’m all about women empowerment, but she has to make everything so hard. I’m an asshole, so i guess, I win. She’s pinched me on my butt cheeks until I bled, in spots my dad would never see. I remember everything. Memories are associated with emotions, stronger the emotions, the better the memories. I have bipolar, not schizophrenia. Is it the meds that are working, or Tibetan Book of the Dead? I do not know. It’s too philosophical.