Oh yeah, this is super relatable.

I have a very complicated relationship with my heritage. (I come from a Middle Eastern country.)

As a teen I would stay up at night wishing I was white (because my white friends’ parents were OK with me being queer. They showed me a kind of love my life was so sorely lacking in.)

Whenever I’d come home I’d have to put the proverbial mask back on, but no matter what, I couldn’t work my way out of being a disappointment to the family. I felt like a prisoner in my own house and I knew other people had it different.

My mother also used to throw my medication (antidepressants) away because “chemicals bad” and it’ll “ruin [my] brain”, essentially. And so I’d deal with withdrawal too.

I was victimised by a combination of difficult life circumstances, and (really, mostly) a rigid, conservative, and intolerant culture.

As an adult now, my feelings about this are not so black and white; I am proud of where I’m from. But I do feel for younger me. And I’m still damaged from my childhood. Always will be.

Good god, I am so tired of hearing about this cringey edge lord.