Shopping Mall Murder

As i walk around this air conditioned shopping mall i contemplate propelling myself off the fifth level. I currently stand on the moving stairs watching all these lazy shoppers going up up to their death. Similar like me except they don't even realize that this suicide is much worse than a jump. This suicide is committed everyday. Their wallets is the gun and their head is their dignity. Their heart swept away with every swiping of their credit card. Its all a bloody mess. Cash everywhere. Cash they barely can get a grasp on. Some of them fall off the balcony just trying to stretch that soft arm one more inch to reach one single bill. People even traveled hundreds and thousands of minutes of sky time to end up in this hell hole where their salary can go much further in this Malaysia shopping mall than in their UK shops. I'm fucking disgusted. I am crying here stuck in the second floor trying to make myself to go back to the ground. But i decide to take the moving stairs to the third level. Closer to my last sentence. And you are almost at your last penny. Yet you didn't even make it near the moving stairs. You are already dead. Swimming in the pit of debt. Take care. 

Power of one text message

"I hope you are still alive."

What the fuck kind of text message is that?
Is this your way of showing that you are a real friend who cares about me?

None of you really give one shit about what I am doing with my life. I've been in and out of my hometown for 2 years now. In and out of the country I was born in. Sometimes I struggle with money and sometimes I am MIA completely off the grid from everyone and anyone from my past. Not even my family I care to contact anymore. Everything I do isn't enough if I am not back in America studying the fulfilling this fake ass "American dream." If Trump had the option to deport me he would, and surely I would deport myself. But I am surely grateful for the American passport that came along with being born in a funny country. So I am definitely going to use it to the best of my ability while I possess it. Going from Malaysia and Thailand like there's no tomorrow.

This one text message can shift my mindset into a depressive state instantly. One friend "hoping" that I am still alive...suggesting that I have gone that low in my life to give up completely. She expresses that all my "friends and family" are worried about me back home. What? That's complete bullshit because when I was back home my "friends and family" didn't even care to visit me or help me get out of drugs and a shitty lifestyle. The moral support is never there, whether I'm in my hometown or in Penang, Malaysia. No shits are given.

This one text message can have me worry my ass off about my future. Keep overthinking that what I am doing now, where I am now, is not good for my life. That if I was following the way my "friends and family" expect me to do my life would be better. This overthinking is complete nonsense. I am just giving myself a headache, nothing else. This is the last place in my head I want to be while I am becoming a Muslim. This is not Islam thinking. This is atheist, toxic overthinking that needs to be eliminated just like all the text messages and fake worries I randomly receive. Blocking people from my whatsapp is what I have to resort to now. My strength with Allah isn't where I thought it was. I really have to build that first before I try to strengthen any other past friendships or contact with my family. My relationship with Allah must come first. He is always there for you no matter what. He decides your future, not you.

Toxic Levels

You never learned your limit.
Naive.
Ignorant.
Arrogant.
You already knew you couldn't handle more than a couple shots a night.
You had to take it slow.
But you resisted.
You kept thinking you could handle yourself.
Emptying out your stomach in the toilet or the gutter.
Whichever was closer.
Even Ryan's new shoes.
And you didn't even know Ryan.
Sorry Ryan.
Face bright red.
Not from embarrassment.
Just my typical Asian Glow.
But paired with a tomato complex was asthma, vomit, and no coordination.
Possible alcohol allergy?
How could this be?
So I can't party.
I can't drink.
But I did anyway.
Even if it meant spending New Year's countdown in the bathtub.
I drank shot after shot.
I thought I had to in order to blend in.
Such a child.
Such a teenager.

Wake Up Little High Schooler

Philippines Summer Trip

Written Year 2015 as a Junior in High School

Personal Statement for College Applications

Desired Profession: Nursing Practitioner

The day after my twelfth birthday, I encountered the most unforgettable experiences in my life. I was
in the Philippines, my first visit to a third world country. My family’s vacation was coming to a close
when my sister’s foot randomly swelled so much that walking was painful. As a result, my grandparents’
driver drove my grandparents, dad, sister, and me to the nearest clinic.

After the lengthy drive to the city, my dad carried my sister into the cramped clinic that reeked of rust.
The entire clinic was about the same size as a waiting room in the Kaiser Medical Center that I’m
accustomed to at home. We waited for what seemed like forever, my sister and I sitting on the only
two folding chairs, watching the clinic’s only nurse assisting a patient. When the nurse sent the patient
home, my dad moved my sister to a metal counter to be examined. I didn’t really pay attention after
that because I was distracted by the heat and filth of the tiny building. Perhaps because the clinic’s
doctor was busy at another facility in a different province, the nurse just gave my sister pain relievers
to take home. The image of that clinic will always be engraved in my memory, as I am so
overwhelmingly grateful for the cleanliness and quality of our medical assistance back home in the
States.

On the return to my grandparents' house, we stopped by the driver’s home and met his family. He
lived in the middle of Manila in a small closed off piece of land with his wife and their five young
children. Their land was occupied by two huts made of wooden planks and sheets of metal. I distinctly
remember the children running around and laughing, happy as could be, with no toys or phones to
keep them occupied, very different from what we see here. My dad told me later that day that the
driver was so grateful for his job and home, off the streets. Seeing their lives in the sea of poverty
of the Philippines really opened my eyes to the real world outside of suburban Folsom, California,
where I grew up.

I feel incredibly fortunate to be living in the United States, and I feel a passion and an obligation to
help those suffering from poverty. Now that I am older and understand the true challenges experienced
by that clinic and the people they serve, I yearn to care for those seeking medical attention around the
world, particularly in third world countries. Being a nurse practitioner would best allow me to use my
profession to make such a difference in the world.

_________________________________________

Anywhere but America Trip

Written Year 2019

Response to Fake Personal Statement

Desired Profession: Not a robot

In curiosity I went through my Google Drive and stumbled upon this personal statement
that I started in April of my junior year in High School. I started writing this horrid
essay when I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. My dad enrolled me and
invested his precious money in this stupid college counselor that basically walked me
through the application and enrollment process into my top choice colleges...they helped
me develop emails and applications to send to rowing coaches of colleges I thought
I wanted to study at.

So basically I was cheating...none of it was me. It was all Sharon. Thanks Sharon. It’s
not fair you know...so what just because my dad could afford to pay for this college
counselor then I could get this opportunity and acceptance into a sub par catholic
stupid private mother fucking big shot University with a capital U. How is this fair?
I wasn’t even that great in rowing. I was average at everything I did. So I really
thought I deserved an average future. But my dad thought the complete opposite.
I don’t know what was going through his head. I would slap my 16 year old stupid
pansy coward face all the way back to my 9 year old bunk bed. As Sharon and my father
both worked their manipulative magic we formulated my life path. So I chose NP as my
desired profession because it paid more than Nursing but it wasn't as much school as
becoming a Doctor...wow that really shows how sincere I wanted to care for people huh?
Thank you Allah for waking me up sooner than later. Realizing that none of it was real.
None of it was real. It was a fake life. My whole existence in America was a fucking lie.
Since I was just an innocent child who knew nothing about my family roots...I was told
to get a good job and earn money. I didn’t know where I came from, and I still don’t really
know. But what I know now most importantly is that I really belong is Asia. I am Asian.
I have to find myself in Asia. Not in the fake white country of America. America almost
got me so fucking good. They almost trapped me in their lie forever. The American
Nightmare almost killed me. Three times.

Maybe you are curious about this American poison that flew me out multiple times. This so-called
American Dream is farthest from a dream. It’s a lie created by all these sadistic Jewish
capitalists. Everything they created for the benefit of their capital and western world
to thrive and takeover the world. Feminism, sexuality, consumerism, selfishness,
individuality was all created to rule the world. To eventually destroy Islam slowly. It’s
already happening. Allah already gave us everything we need to live okay but people are
making it hard. Open your eyes. The poor is just getting poorer. The rich are getting
richer. And they want to keep us dumb. Numbing us with sex, luxury, drugs, alcohol and
dopamine fixes from likes on Instagram. What is this nonsense? They tackle human
weaknesses and strip us down to our naked bodies literally. They skin us alive and let
our skin dry in the sun. They take our skin and put it in our food, in our medicine,
secretly giving us a taste of our own blood and cum. They want us to be inhumane in
every way. They talk about human rights in the same way they fight for animal rights.
Because in their eyes, there is no difference.

Okay okay I’m getting a bit carried away here. So basically what I’m trying to get at
is no matter how hard you try to be the best Nurse or Nurse Practitioner or doctor
you think you can be...you will still be just average. Your white colleagues will get more
credit. Unless you cure cancer, or diagnose your sister thoroughly, you will be nothing.
And the worst part, you will just be their slave. Clocking in just like how you clocked in
at Whole Foods Grocery Store, switching shifts with other nurses similar to how you
switched with that bitch cashier who wanted more time to get ready for a concert.
It’s all a fucking joke. They numb you with all this shit so in the end you can be their
robot. Once you are in the system they got you by a wire. And you just have to hold
on tight. And better yet, everyone around you is going to be as plastic as the apples
they feed you with open minds but closed eyes and mouths. Maybe they feel bad for
you because you will never be white? They will ridicule you in secret, but still give you
a donut on Friday. And you thought this was good enough, oh wait, they will make you
worship them. And the saddest thing is that you will cry yourself to sleep because you
will never be white enough for your Asian dad.

Yeah sure the medical facilities and equipment is spectacular in the US...but it's just
part of their trap. All this insurance, retirement, and medical check ups basically reject
the existence of Allah. Relax. You are okay. Except death. Expect death. Life is simple.
People, positions, social statuses, Facebook updates, and borders just make it difficult.

America's False Flag

I have held an American citizenship since I was born.

I was born in California. 

My parents were born in the Philippines.
Moved to America in their 20's around 1995. 

So of course I look completely Asian and identify as a Filipina.

Now the question is am I an American? Am I an American-Immigrant? Am I an Asian-American?

And the other question is...why does it really matter?

It's just a passport. It's just a citizenship. But it is one of the last things I can truly identify myself as. It's not the country I am proud to be coming from. And surely, I still don't think I really come from there. I was just born on that land because my parents didn't want to live in their homeland. They call America the "land of the free" but I can consider it more the "land of the lost." The land of many people who don't want to or don't care to identify themselves with any country. As some are proud to be an American. Many of us don't truly know what it really means to be an American. 

Travelling around Asia I've learned many things about the world and my identity. One thing is for sure that America is completely a bubble, oblivious to so many real things going on in other countries, oblivious to the strong impact (positive and mostly negative) their western influence and capitalistic ideology has put upon many countries in Southeast Asia. Americans are completely stuck in their own ideas that they are the strongest country in economy, style, entertainment, equality, human rights and everything great...but is it really that great for the world, or just them? In similar ways it has destroyed my family, western influence has put a huge toll on the poverty differences in the Philippines, Indonesia, India, etc. and slowly working it's way to other innocent countries like Malaysia and Thailand without them realizing it. They take from all these third world countries. Check right now, where is your shirt from? Maybe it's from Bangladesh or South Africa. But I guarantee you that a majority of you won't see your cheap clothing made from America or a European country. Many of these western first world countries are nothing without these third world countries, and the sad part is that the first world countries take all the credit. They cannot admit that they want oil from the middle east, so they create this religious tension putting all this fear on extremist groups when they are the filthy thieves.

America is not just taking oil. They take everything they want for their benefit. Taking from any country that is a bit too relaxed and a lot easier to control than North Korea. Making it sound like they can make a nice peace deal helping each other, but all they do it just drop their shit sex culture and leave with anything they want. They took my family from me. They took my identity away from me. They took my homeland so I can call them my homeland. My real fake homeland filled with artificial grass and covered with plastic.

Apology not heard. Apology not accepted.

NGO's are a no-go

NGO

/ˌɛnˌdʒiːˈəʊ/

noun

1. a non-profit organization that operates independently of any government, typically one whose purpose is to address a social or political issue.

   
   

   "thousands of people have been displaced, seeking refuge at police stations, churches, and temporary accommodation set up by NGOs"

Independent and free from government control they may be, but that doesn't mean they are doing all good. Of course no organization is perfect, but some of these advocacy, religious, or environmental NGO's seem to forget the role they can play to benefit society. 

The source of funding for a non-governmental organization essentially comes from donations, sponsorship, and grants....well that's what we are told. Great huh? Sounds so personal and no room for error. Maybe what some of us anti-gov vegans fear of non-NGO's is that politicians or conservatives will corrupt the financials right? But just like politicians, volunteers and ngo presidents are also human and any innocent human is surely capable of excessive greediness. 

Don't be fooled. Just because some organization claims themselves to be an NGO...it doesn't mean they have the greatest intentions. Even religious ones. Don't be decieved because they use the name of God. How real are they really being? I wanted to convert to a religion and walked into an NGO wondering if they can teach me more and they were already to convert me that same day...??? What's the rush? They didn't even know if I knew anything about the religion and they wanted me to convert immediately. They even told me that if i died crossing the street without converting what will happen then. I completely understand where they are coming from but they still have no right to rush into it like that. And from my knowledge many of these religious affiliations get money for every person they convert. Oh...so now I know what all the rush was about. What a joke. And here they are filming me and taking pictures that entire month I was there. I have a lot of other things I can say about this corrupted NGO but they certainly did help me convert in the end but I just was unsure where their intentions lie. 

This wasn't my first experience with an NGO. It also isn't the first time I was confused about society's positive outlook on NGOs purley because they label themself as a charitable organizations. Are award ceremonies for members and publicity of the NGO logo really more important than personally advocating for the cause or teaching the religion in depth? 

What's the point to label yourself an NGO...its just a trap.