the height of my low.

honestly there was someone on here who i spoke to nearly two years ago via tumblr messaging, and they were seemingly a good person until i started picking up on their fetishization of me as a poc, how they were so intent in knowing just what ethnic background/s i was composed of, how they absolutely had to know, how they always felt the need to tell me i looked like some celebrity/model/whatever i really didn’t in the slightest. it was so upsetting because i thought i was going somewhere with our conversations, and i couldn’t even bring myself to tell them to fuck off. 

i have experienced a lifetime of racism, but i don’t ever remember being genuinely angry— more so just defeated. i look at people fighting their battles for justice everyday, and i always wonder where that energy comes from. how does someone harness the vigor to actively fight a frighteningly towering power structure like white supremacy? i barely lifted a finger, i stay quiet in situations i should be speaking up, and by doing so, i betray myself and all that i stand for. 

will send a picture of myself crying for a large sum of money.

sadder than the sound of a lonely girl laughing at the bad jokes of a guy she likes.

love is unprofessional

hood by air, sleeve by water

this too shall pass, and you will pass, and you will be nothing

what is it about me that attracts you korea fetishizer blogs?