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imgoingtohellsofuckit · 5 years ago

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How He Saved Iris

Izuku Midoriya x Quirkless! Reader

Warnings- Mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts.

Summary - She was at the end of her line and he was determined to save her

Notes - Hi when I’m in bad places I write fics and this was a result of that so it’s a little rough but please enjoy!

"You never think about the consequences" God if I had a dollar for every time I heard that. I'd probably own UA by now.

"You never think about anyone else! You're so selfish!" Selfish isn't the right word. I just don't care. It's as simple as that. I'm in a hero society with out a quirk. I can't be a hero and I can't be anything else. Quirkless is worse than death in this world.

The breeze hits my ankles as I stand on the railing. My body waving back and fourth slightly. The sun shines above me. It's a nice day not too hot and not too cold. Birds chirp as the fly above me. I lift my foot up hovering it over the empty sky. A step into nothing. A step and then it's over.

I always wondered how I'd die. I always assumed I'd die a hero. Too bad I couldn't. Too bad I die like the bad ending. A path no one wants to travel.

"Mama I'm coming home," I mumble softly. Another step and the ground beneath me disappears.

Before I can fall I feel someone desperately grab my arm. They pull me back on to the roof. I hit their chest. Feeling their racing heart agaisnt my back.

"You okay?" A soft voice asks. It doesn't match the muscular form I feel against my back. As I turn to face the person I see soft green hair and a face littered in freckles. He's looking at me waiting for an answer. I simply nod.

Okay doesn't try to hop off the roof of the school.

He's wearing a UA uniform. Apparently we go to school together.

"You could have gotten seriously hurt," He says finally, "it's lucky I grabbed you when I did."

"Lucky," I repeat.

He looks tensely at me. Not knowing what to say or do. His green eyes look to my uniform.

"You go to UA? I haven't seen you around," He says softly. "What class are you in?"

"Class 1C general studies," I explain, "no one really remembers us."

"General studies?" He asks. I nod.

"What about you?" I ask him, "I've never seen you around so I assume you aren't general studies."

"Yeah I'm class 1A Hero course," The boy replies. He offers me his hand. "I'm Izuku Midoriya." I wait a couple seconds before taking the hand tensely.

"No one class me by my name," I tell him, "they all call me Iris."

"Iris?" He asks me.

"My nickname growing up," I share.

"Hey Midoriya you coming or what?" A guy shouts from the door way. Midoriya looks back to me. His expression is soft and full of concern.

"I should get to my dorm," I reply. I wave off before past him to the door.

"You can't be a hero you quirkless nothing"

80% of the world has a quirk. How unlucky do you have to be to be in the 20%. When all my life I just wanted to be a hero how is it fair that I get nothing?

No quirk. No future. Not in this society.

At 5 years old they gave me my diagnosis. No quirk. Despite my parents both being hero's with great quirks I was deemed a nothing. A nobody. And as if the fates decided my life wasn't bad enough mom got the diagnosis three days later.

My dad died the day I was born. An villain killed him while he was trying to save someone. He and I never got to meet. My mom and I were left alone. But she never let that worry her. She still faced the world with a bright smile.

I was 7 when she died. The concept of death was so hard to understand. I thought it was my fault. I couldn't save mom. Her funeral was hard. I don't think I talked for months after it. They moved me in with my grandma. The old lady had many faults her biggest was loudly telling the world I was a stain on her sons legacy. How someone in her family line would never be quirkless. I suppose that's when I started the idea. The only way to be happy was to not be. That's when I started to want to die.

The truth is I didn't exactly want to die rather I want everything to end. I wanted to stop being so sad. I thought the worst of it was then. But then saddens turned to nothing. It turned to feeling empty. Feeling numb to everything.

"Hey It's you," I hear a soft voice say. I look up from my book to see the messy green hair and face full of freckles. "Iris."

"And It's you Midoriya," I reply, "in the library interrupting my reading."

"Oh sorry you just looked lonely," He says softly, "I wanted to invite you over to study with my friends and I." He points to a full table to bright colorful hero's students. All beaming with joy and excitement.

"No," I say reply, "I just want to read alone."

"Come on you can't want to be alone," He tells me, "we'd love to have you join us-"

"I said no," I say firmly. He nods then stands from the seat. His eyes remain on me. "Can you leave already?"

"No," he says, "I'm gonna stay here with you. You can't make me leave." He sits back down. "I won't make you talk or listen. But I'm not leaving you alone." I roll my eyes and look back to my book. He pulls a notebook out working on some math problem. I find it hard not to sneak glances. Why won't he leave me alone? Why can't he take a hint?

The next day he's there again. Waiting at my table working on his homework as I try to read. My eyes focus on the numbers he's scribbling through. He skipped a step.

"That 7 is wrong," I reply boredly

"Really?" He asks.

"Yeah It's supposed to be a 9," I tell him as I flip through my book.

"You're right. Thanks," He says giving me a big smile. I scoff looking back to my book. I shouldn't have helped him. I don't want to encourage him sticking around me.

The next day when I get to the library he isn't there. I smile in relief thinking he's forgotten about me.

Who would have imagined? A girl so full of emptiness would finally want to put that to an end? I have nothing to say. No why to give. No one here deserves my last words. No one ever tried to care.

"What are you writing?" Midoriya asks as he sits across for me. I scoff ripping it from my notebook. Shoving the note in my pocket.

"Doesn't matter," I growl, "why can't you just go away?"

"No you still look lonely," he tells me, "as a hero it's my job to help people. To make them smile."

"I don't smile," I snap back, "and I don't like it when people try to help me. And I especially don't like heroes."

"How Can you not like heroes? They are so cool!"

"I don't have a great experience," I growl.

"I wanna be just like you mommy"

"Quirkless loser! Quirkless loser!"

"I wanna save the day"

"You just haven't been around the right heroes," He tells me, "a lot of them are so nice and so cool! Like All Might! You have to at least like All Might."

"No i hate all heroes," I say harshly, "now leave me alone." I raise the book to cover my face. He looks down.

"I know a kid who didn't like heroes," He tells me, "his parents were heroes and they died when he was really young. It took him being saved by one to realize how great heroes are." I keep trying to ignore him. But he moves pushing my book down to make eye contact with me. "I'm gonna save you. I'm going to make you like heroes."

You better move fast then Midoriya.

"UA academy for a hoax."

Grandmother was never very nice. Her whole family came from heroes. The longest line of heroes ended with one mistake. After my mother died she changed my last name. Said she didn't want her sons legacy to be connected to me. I lost my parents, my dream, and my name all before the age of 10.

"You want to drop out of UA?" Nezu asks me. I nod calmly. I feel the eyes of teachers around the office on me. No one drops out of UA. Its the best of the best. You get expelled sure maybe even transfer departments. Maybe. But to drop out all together. It's unheard of. "Well this is certainly unexpected."

"Do you have another school in mind?" Aizawa asks me.

I have half a mind to make a joke about a special school in hell. But they wouldn't find it funny. Instead I make up a lie. They sigh before telling me I'd have to stay til the end of the week. I nod.

"Thank you all," I say softly before excusing my self from the room.

3 days. My last day is when I'll do it.

"You look very pretty today," Midoriya says as he sits across from my in the lunch room. I had myself so tucked away in the corner most people never found me. How did he? I don't reply to him comment. Instead I watch as he sits down his tray then looks to my napkin holding a hand full of crackers. "No lunch?"

"Nah heavy breakfast," I lie. He moves handing me half of his sandwich.

"If you eat that I'll be quiet for a whole 5 minutes," He says to me. I take it from him. Half to get him to leave me alone and half because the aching pain in my stomach is eating away at me. I rip up the pieces and take the tiniest bites. However upon noticing his careful glare I finish it off. "Five minutes," He tells me, "so why are you over here by yourself?"

"I don't keep many friends," I reply.

"I see," He tells me, "I don't see why not. You are kinda nice when you aren't glaring daggers at people."

"Don't mistake me helping you on a problem for me extending my friendship to you," I say harshly, "I don't want nor need any friends."

"Everyone needs friends," He tells me.

"Well I don't," I scoff. I move standing from the table tossing my crackers away and march from the cafeteria through the empty halls.

"You were a failure from the start. If you had just died the world would had been better off."

"I'm worried about her," Aizawa says to Nezu, "I can't see her just dropping out."

"Iris has always been a bit of an odd one out," Mic adds in, "maybe she was finally tired of feeling less than everyone else. Think about it her parents were heros and she's just a general studies kid."

"Her grades have been slipping for the last couple months too," Nezu says to the group.

"I'm worried," Aizawa repeats, "maybe we should call home."

"She's dropping out?" Midoriya whispers. He's been hiding outside the door. He didn't mean too but he heard Iris and felt the need to listen. Dropping out? Why would she do that?

Take away everything for someone and what are you left with? Nothing. I have nothing to gain or lose. Nothing to feel. Nothing. Besides no one will miss me.

"You're late," Izuku says watching me carefully. I move sitting down across from him in the library.

"Why do you keep sitting here?" She asks finally.

"I'm gonna save you remember," he tells me. I roll my eyes. "Why are you dropping out?"

"I don't fit here any more," I tell him, "it's not my place ya know. I'm not a hero kid or support kid. I'm just kinda here."

"But what about your friends," He says softly:

"I don't have those," I reply as I open up the book.

"I'm your friend."

I scoff at the notion.

"You don't even know me," I say sternly.

"You've only read romance novels this whole week. The ones where it's star crossed lovers," He tells me, "you read fast about 16 pages every 3 minutes. You skip lunch every Tuesday to walk the gardens. I learned that from Shinso. You water the lilies because you don't think the garden ever remembers too. Aizawa is the only teacher you've seemed to bond with because he used to train you."

"So you're a stalker," I say simply, "we still aren't friends."

"I'm trying to be," he says softly, "if you'd just let me in."

"After Friday you can pretty much forget about me," I reply, "I'm not important."

"When I met you- I thought you looked familiar," He blurts out, "you're mom she was DragonWing! And your dad was Dragoner! You had hero parents so why do you hate them so much?" All the emptiness turns to anger.

"God you follow me around you watch my every mood dig into my past and you wonder why I won't talk to you!" I shout at him, "I don't want to be your friend. I don't want to be around you! So until I leave UA leave me the hell alone!" The entire library had turned to look at us. Anger radiates off of me as I glare down at the boy. "Don't bother me anymore." I yank my bag onto my shoulder and march off. The day couldn't end fast enough.

I didn't realize I left the note behind.

My life was always destined to end in tragedy. From my parents death to the quirkless marking. I could never catch a damn break. And man did no one stop. Kids are mean sure but adults were the ones who crushed my dreams.

I hope in my next life I'm a butterfly. Or something that can fly. I just want to be free you know. To not feel empty and helpless. All I've ever wanted was to feel again.

'No. She wouldn't?' Izuku thought to himself. Denial filling his bones. She'd never kill himself. But it really seems like it. Oh no. What do you do in these situations? He didn't know.

"Mr. Aizawa!" Izuku shouts. He catches the time. He won't make to the pro in time. Instead he focused all of his energy into his legs. One shot.

3:30 the last bell rings and by 4 the commons is cleared. I've chose this to be the perfect time. Not witnesses no unintended harm. Just like the day Izuku found me I'll toss my self off the roof. Maybe I'll learn my quirk is to fly? Or maybe I'll realize I have a immortality quirk. Naive thought. Better than the thought that' keeps playing in my mind of how my body will look on the pavement.

I place my shoes on the ground. My letter was missing so I had to quickly write up another one. I rest it in on the heels of my shoes then move stepping up on the railing.

My mind moves to my mother. Her soft hair and gentle face. She loved me more than she ever had time to express. A pro hero who even though her daughter was quirkless told her she could become a real hero. The stories she told about her and my father. They way they met in school. They way they were happy.

It almost makes the emptiness worse.

3:28 3:29

3:56 3:58 3:59

The last kid leaves the walkway.

She takes her first step.

"Goodbye"

She starts to fall

"It's the end"

"Not yet!" The voice is strong. Powerful even if it's high pitched. He dives off to grab her. His arms clutching her tightly. The lack of gravity catches them. Uraraka. She smiles at the two. Iida and Todoroki at her side. The two guys help pull the jumper and her saviour back onto the roof.

Tears stream down the girls face.

All I wanna do is die

"Why did you do that?!" I sob helplessly, "It wasn't almost over I was almost free!"

"No you almost made a terrible mistake," The blue hair boy says looking at me.

I look to Midoriya still holding onto me. I move burying my head in his chest.

"I wanna die! Just let me die! Please! Why did you do that?"

"I told you I was gonna save you," He says to me as he strokes my hair, "I meant it. I'm gonna save you from yourself. I'm gonna help you."

"I don't want your help!"

"I know but you're gonna get it," He says to me, "something drew me to the roof that day and since then I made it my goal to help you. So let me." I meet his eyes. Green. Bright and full of life. He's so positive. So bright. It's not fair.

"I'll just keep jumping," I say at once.

"And I'll keep pulling you back," He tells me, "but you and I both know there is a better way to solve this."

"How?"

"Let's start off with telling a teacher," He says softly. He offers his hand to me and helps me from the ground.

We do just that. We tell Aizawa about attempt number one and two. He asks questions I don't want to answer. I answer them anyway. We reenroll me into school then I'm admitted to the hospital. It's lonely at first but Midoriya visits a lot. He helps me feel better.

My grandma gives up custody of me. Aizawa takes me in. I get back in school with better grades and better health. I befriend class 1A. I make heroes good again in my mind.

I still feel jealous. But I remember I don't need a quirk to be a hero. I decide to become a consoler. To help people in a different way.

Midoriya becomes my best friend. Then my boyfriend. After a couple more years my husband. He explains the story about him and All Might. And tells me we probably won't have a kid with a quirk. I smile at him. Saying we'll still love them. Our baby is born with Izuku's mothers quirk our next kid has a dragon transformation quirk like my mother. Midoriya tells them the stories of how he saved millions. He leaves the most important one for last. How he saved Iris.

#izuku midoria x reader #izuku x reader #deku x reader #quirkless reader #kinda angst #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader

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theadmiringbog · 7 years ago

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Schools reward being a generalist. There is little recognition of student passion or expertise. The real world, however, does the reverse. Arnold, talking about the valedictorians said, “They’re extremely well rounded and successful, personally and professionally, but they’ve never been devoted to a single area in which they put all their passion. That is not usually a recipe for eminence.”

In his Ph.D. thesis, Mukunda applied his theory to all the U.S. presidents, evaluating which ones were filtered and which unfiltered, and whether or not they were great leaders. The results were overwhelming. His theory predicted presidential impact with an almost unheard of statistical confidence of 99 percent.

...

When I spoke to Mukunda, he said, “The difference between good leaders and great leaders is not an issue of ‘more.’ They’re fundamentally different people.”

“All of Silicon Valley is based on character defects that are rewarded uniquely in this system.”

- Po Bronson

Know thyself.

...

Many people struggle with this. They aren’t sure what their strengths are. Drucker offers a helpful definition:”What are you good at that consistently produces desired results?”

To find out what those things are, he recommends a system he calls “feedback analysis.”

Quite simply, when you undertake a project, write down what you expect to happen, then later note the results. Over time you’ll see what you do well and what you don’t.

...

Research by Gallup shows that the more hours per day you spend doing what you’re good at, the less stressed you feel and the more you laugh, smile, and feel you’re being treated with respect.

The difference between the Givers who succeed and the Givers who don’t isn’t random. Adam Grant notes that totally selfless Givers exhaust themselves helping others and get exploited by Takers, leading them to perform poorly on success metrics. There are number of things Givers can do to build limits for themselves and make sure they don’t go overboard. That two-hours-a-week volunteering? Don’t do more. Research by Sonja Lyubomirsky shows that people are happier and less stressed when they “chunk” their efforts to help others versus a relentless “sprinkling.” So by doing all their good deeds one day a week, Givers make sure assisting others doesn’t hamper their own achievements. One hundred hours a year seems to be the magic number.

Grant also points out the other ace in the hole Givers have: Matchers. They want to see good rewarded and evil punished, so Matchers go out of their way to punish Takers and protect Givers from harm. When Givers are surrounded by a coterie of Matchers, they don’t have to fear exploitation as much.

Don’t be envious

Life isn’t a zero-sum game. Just because someone else wins, that doesn’t mean you lose. Sometimes that person need the fruit and you need the peel. And sometimes the strategy that makes you lose small on this round makes you win big on the next.

Cooperate

Harvard Business School’s Deepak Malhotra number one recommendation to students is “They need to like you.” This doesn’t mean you need to give twenty-dollar bills to everyone you meet. Favors can be quite small. We also forget that something quite easy for us (a thirty-second email introduction) can have enormous payoffs for others (a new job).

As Adam Grant acknowledged, giving too much can lead to burnout. A mere two hours a week of helping others is enough to get maximum benefits, so there’s no need for guilt or for martyring yourself -- an no excuse for saying you don’t have time to help others.

David DeStenoo, head of the Social Emotions Group at Northeastern University says, “People are always trying to discern two things:

whether a potential partner can be trusted and

whether he or she is likely to be encountered again.

Answers to those two questions, far beyond anything else, will determine what any of us will be motivated to do in the moment.”

“Explanatory style”: three Ps: permanence, pervasiveness, and personalization

Pessimists tell themselves that bad events

will last a long time, or forever (I’ll never get this done)

are universal (I can’t trust any of these people)

are their own fault (I’m terrible at this)

Optimists tell themselves that bad events

are temporary (That happens occaionally, but it’sn ot a big deal)

have a specific cause and aren’t universal (When the weather is better that won’t be a problem)

are not their fault (I’m goo at this, but today wsn’t my lucky day)

A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life. He knows the “why” for his existence, and will be able to bear almost any “how.”

- Victor Frankl

“What is to give light must endure burning.”

-- Victor Frankl

What’s the best predictor of your child’s emotional well-being? Researchers at Emory University found that whether a kid knew their family history was the number-one indicator.

It sounds morbid, but people who contemplate the end actually behave in healthier ways -- and therefore may actually live longer. It has also been shown to increase self-esteem.

The moral of Don Quixote: “If you want to be a knight, act like a knight.”

“If you are immune to boredom, there is literally nothing you cannot accomplish.”

-- David Foster Wallace

What all good games have in common: WNGF

Winnable

Novel challenges and Goals

provide Feedback

You can be sincere and score points with the boss by regularly asking how you’re doing and how can you do better. If you were the boss, and an employee regularly said, “How can I make your life easier?” what would your reaction be? Exactly.

“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.”

-- Henry David Thoreau

Whenever you wish you had more time, more money, etc. strategic quitting is the answer.

We act like there are no limits. When we choose an extra hour at work, we are in effect, choosing one less hour with our kids. We can’t do it all and do it well. And there will not be more time later. Time does not equal money because we can get more money.

Drucker always asks: “Is this still worth doing?” And if it isn’t, he gets rid of it so as to be able to concentrate on the few tasks that, if done with excellence, will really make a difference in the results of his own job and in the performance of his organization.

If you practice something one hour a day, that’s 27.4 years to reach the 10,000-hour mark of expertise. But what if you quit a few less important things and made it four hours a day? Now it’s 6.8 years.

There’s an easy formula that gives you an exact answer for how many dates to go on and how to pick the right person. It’s what math folks call an “optimal stopping problem.”

The two magic words are “if” and “then.” For any obstacle, just thinking, If X happens, I’ll handle it by doing Y makes a huge difference.

WOOP -- wish, outcome, obstacle, plan -- is applicable to most any of your goals, from career to relationships to exercise and weight loss.

First, you get to dream. What’s the thing you wish for?

Really crystalize it in your mind and see the outcome you desire.

Then it’s time to face reality. What obstacle is in the way?

Then address it. What’s your plan?

You wanna be a real ramblin’ earth shaker? Somebody who changes the world and gets recognized in the history books? There ain’t no two ways about it; you’re gonna need a mentor.

You might think, “I’m just trying to explain ...” But Bernstein says this is a trap. Explaining is almost always veiled dominance. You’re not trying to educate; you’re still trying to win. The subtext is, “Here’s why I am right and you are wrong.” And that is exactly what the other side will hear no matter what you say.

Ask open-ended questions. Ones that start with “what” or “how” are best because it’s very hard to answer then with just yes or no.

Label emotions

Respond to their emotions by saying “Sounds like you’re angry” or “Sounds like this really upsets you.” Neuroscience research shows that giving a name to feelings helps reduce their intensity.

Make them think

Al Bernstein likes to ask “What would you like me to do?” This forces them to consider options and think instead of just vent.

Walter sat down and counted all the people who had helped him become a success. He would call them “my forty-four.” Forty-four people.

Low self-confidence may turn you into a pessimist, but when pessimism teams-up with ambition it often produces outstanding performance. To be the very best at anything, you will need to be your harshest critic, and that is almost impossible when your starting point is high self-confidence.

-- Tomas Chamorr-Premuzic

Research shows increasing self-compassion has all the benefits of self-esteem -- but without the downsides.

As the WSJ reports, “Those who stayed very involved in meaningful careers and worked the hardest, lived the longest.” Meaningful work means doing something that’s (a) important to you and (b) something you’re good at.

“Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do. Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do.”

-- Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer

Psychologists have realized that burnout isn’t just an acute overdose of stress; it’s pretty much plain ol’ clinical depression.

To be really creative, you need to step out of that hyper-focused state of tension and let your mind wander.

You need a personal definition of success. Looking around you to see if you’re succeeding is no longer a realistic option. Trying to be a relative success compared to others is dangerous. This means your level of effort and investment is determined by theirs, which keeps you running full speed ball the time to keep up. Vaguely saying you want to “be number one” isn’t remotely practical in a global competition where others are willing to go 24/7. We wanted options and flexibility. we got them. Now there are no boundaries. You can no longer look outside yourself to determine when to stop. The world will always tell you to just keep going.

“Success is something you will confront constantly in business. You will always be interpreting it against something, and that something should be your own goals and purpose.”

- Ken Hakuta

Four metrics that matter most

Happiness: having feelings of pleasure or contentment in and about your life

Achievement: achieving accomplsihments that compare favorably against similar goals others have strived for

Significance: having a positive impact on people you care about

Legacy: establishing your values or accomplishments in ways that help others find future success

Maximizing is exploring all the options, weighing them, and trying to get the best. Satisficing is thinking about what you need and picking the first thing that fulfills those needs. Satisficing is living by “good enough.”

Ellen Galinsky did a study asking kids, “If you were granted one wish and you only have one wish that could change the way your mothers or your fathers work affects your life, what would that wish be?” Most popular answer? They wished their parents were “less stressed and less tired.

Write down where each hour goes as it happens. Don’t rely on your fallible memory. Do this for a week. Where are your activities taking you? Is it where you want to go?

Note which hours are contributing to which of the big four:

Happiness

Achievement

Significance

Legacy

The only way to be realistic about what you can get done in the time you have is to schedule things on a calendar instead of making an endless list.

At least an your a day, preferably in the morning, needs to be “protected time.”

What’s the most important thing to remember when it comes to success? One word: alignment.

Success is not the result of any single quality; it’s about alignment between who you are and where you choose to be. The right skill in the right role. A good person surrounded by other good people. A story that connects you with the world in a way that keeps you going. A network that helps you, and a job that leverages your natural introversion or extroversion. A level of confidence that keeps you going while learning and forgiving yourself for the inevitable failures. A balance between the big four that creates a well-rounded life with no regrets.

Know thyself. What are your intensifiers? Are you a Giver, a Taker, or a Matcher? Are you more introverted or more extroverted? Underconfident or overconfident? Which of the big four do you naturally fulfill an which do you consistently neglect?

What’s the most important type of alignment? Being connected to a group of friends and loved ones who help you become the person you want to be. Financial success is great, but to have a successful life we need happiness. Career success doesn’t always make us happy, but the research shows that happiness does bring success.

#Barking Up the Wrong Tree #books

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bananashemmo · 8 years ago

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Under Every City Light

Pairing: Y/N/Luke

Rating: PG-All

Request: No

Words: 4.500+

Summary: This one is fully inspired by the lyrics from “Beside You.” I was going through old songs and this one will always be a favorite. This is basically about the first night of being alone after he has left for tour and how they only wish for one thing, to be with each other again.

“That’s not the right chord.”

Luke’s eyes glared tiredly at the acoustic guitar in his lap, his usual sweet escape, his usual getaway when things would be getting too hard.

The sound kept being wrong and he couldn’t figure out the mistake. It was as it said on his paper and unless John had made a mistake he would have been too tired to see what he was doing.

Maybe it was the best if he just let go of the guitar and soothed out some sleep. He had been awake for over 24 hours, switched between three flights and a bus with less air than the earth produced outside.

But every time he looked over at the bed with an empty spot next to him it was like a piece of his heart was ripped out of his chest.

The carpet underneath his bare feet was soft and cuddly, it could almost compare to a blanket. But by every step he took and assumed he would create heat he felt nothing else but coldness around him.

His hair was tousled when he looked into the mirror above the dresser and placed his acoustic guitar back in its case. The red velvet almost made sure to take care of the fragile thing, he never liked taking it anywhere but he had to.

It was as if it was the only thing he could carry around that reminded him of home.

He still hadn’t packed out his clothes yet, the drawers in the dresser were empty. He knew he would stay here for over two weeks, it wasn’t as if he was leaving right away but he felt if he really did pack out it would be a reminder that he wouldn’t be home for a long time.

The passport and plane tickets were scattered on the small dinner table in a huge mess just like his wallet and the rest of his stuff from his travel bag. It included such things as headphones, papers, and too many guitar plectrums.

He wanted to clean up his mess but wasn’t the slightest motivated.

The TV had been going on for a while. He had watched a bit How I Met Your Mother from the free Netflix that was offered from the hotel. It was a nice feeling; it reminded him of the many old laughs coming from the living room.

The clock was striking past 3AM but with the time zones and his busy schedule he barely had the time to think straight.

He knew he was supposed to wake up at 7 for sessions with John and Michael, they had this new song coming up and Luke had promised to be well rested and prepared.

Not that they wanted to judge him. They knew he had just arrived hours ago with his flight and the jet lag was ready to kill. He would have thought he would have gotten too used to it with all his travels but no matter how many times he went through it Luke couldn’t kill time and the lack of sleep.

With his eyes so tired and his voice rough from lacking hours of rest he could barely sing, he could barely read what was on the papers.

It couldn’t compare to English but Latin and with John’s messy ink hand writing it wasn’t helping his struggles. They could have been in German and Luke would have understood more from that than he did right now.

He had promised to prepare by reading the stuff through and being able to play it on guitar.

Usually it wasn’t a problem, he was a quick learner and by once glance he could easily learn something. It was why he had benefits in school and not just because his mother was a math teacher but also because he had attachment to everything he walked past.

But this didn’t make sense to him at all. Maybe it was the easiest chords to date but Luke was too tired to care so he settled with giving up.

The first day after leaving home was always the worst one.

He still had the guitar plectrum between his lips and his tall frame leaned down to open his suitcase in search for a few tea bags. He could have easily bought the ones down by the store a few streets away from the hotel but he wanted them to be the right ones.

He loved the taste of licorice it brought so many memories to his mind. It gave him the feeling of the ocean blue and the beige sand between his toes and fingers by the porch of the beach house.

Maybe he had brought too many boxes with tea but it was like an addiction and now with being so far away from everything he saw as his normally daily life he needed something to bring him back.

The hotel didn’t have any water boiler so he settled with the hard solution and grabbed a pot from one of the white cupboards. So much he would do just for a small sip of delightful flavors.

He could hear the commercials on the TV screen behind him but he didn’t want to turn it off. He had no idea what would be shown seconds later but he needed the background noises.

It filled out the silence.

He remembered the first time he had accidentally opened one of the tea bags instead of leaving them as they were and filled the cup up with water. It was a mistake on a hungover morning but one of the funniest things he had ever done.

Her reaction was the best about the whole thing. At first he had been confused to what he had done but once realizing he had spilled tea crumbles all over the marble kitchen counter he laughed quietly.

He would have done it twenty times more just to hear her laugh again.

After putting the water to boil he looked over his shoulder and sighed softly.

He had made sure to have a small picture frame stand by the night frame. He always carried it around when being on tour, not that he didn’t have 500 pictures in his folders on his phone.

But it was something different because it was also the one he had standing on his nightstand at home. It made it less uncomfortable especially when he went from places to places with the miss growing bigger and bigger.

He had tried his best to bring everything along that reminded him of home. It was something he hoped would make him feel better.

Because, the thought of not being beside Y/N all the time left him weak and breathless.

Y/N sighed softly by the sight in front of her. She kept on adding the plates, pots, and she felt that she sooner than later would be drowned in the pile of dirty dishwashing.

A day had barely passed by before she had ruined the first thing.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, she had been taught how to use the new machine they had just bought but by pressing one wrong button it was a point of no return and she couldn’t fix it.

The radio playing soft Friday’s hits mixed with remixes was filling out the silence in the otherwise large kitchen. She supposed it was Ed Sheeran but because of the water constantly running she wasn’t sure.

She was tired and just wanted to go to bed but she avoided it. The thought of doing it alone was somehow common but scary.

As she looked out of the kitchen windows where the white vertical blinds were colored up by the various colors coming from the sun she noticed a bit of soap that had appeared on her nose.

Gently leaning over to take a napkin she used it to remove it and looked down at the dirty water.

“Should I do it?” The question was said out loud but she wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be answered.

She glanced over her shoulder with teeth digging onto her bottom lip, looking at the home phone where the red button kept blinking. It spoiled an unheard voice mail, something she had been avoiding listening to for the past hours.

It was a tempting choice because right now in that exact moment she hadn’t been feeling this alone since he left.

“Hey gorgeous, it’s me.”

The words stung like a bee once she pressed onto the waiting button and felt how her heart was starting to beat harder.

“I’m sure you’re waiting until the last minute to listen to this message but I just wanted to give you a quick hello. I’m currently on my way to the gate and less than 20 minutes from now I will have to turn my phone off.”

His voice was so familiar it almost felt like he was there. But as she looked to her right with the smallest hope of seeing his face she was only met by the sad reflection of hers in the kitchen windows.

“I know this is gonna be hard but I just want to remind you one thing. It’s simple, it’s something that’s constantly repeated but by every time I say it, it gets bigger meaning.”

She exhaled a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair trying to calm her racing heart down. The first day was always the hardest they would say.

It made her lose her breath.

“I love you.”

The words were more familiar than ever she had to gently touch her cheek to pinch herself from believing he was there. Everything about that voice mail was both the best and the worst feeling she could possibly get.

“I love you too.” She whispered back and pressed on the button not wanting to repeat the voice mail.

She knew she couldn’t just be standing by the coffee table listening to the voice mail over and over again. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. She had to remember it would be a quick goodbye and an even faster hello.

It was with a bored glance she looked back at the dirty dishes.

She knew she would regret it in the morning by being woken up by the sight of that but use just couldn’t stand there any longer. Her legs had turned into jelly and she needed a break to rest.

With direction towards the stairs she dragged tired body up until the master bedroom and opened the door.

The remaining clothes of his that he hadn’t decided to bring along on tour was scattered in his dresser, closet, and on the floor. In the stress of packing he didn’t have the time to put it all back into place.

He had joked saying that it could be something to keep her entertained but she didn’t dare to remove any of it.

Not that she was a fan of a mess, it was the complete opposite. He knew if he left used coffee cups by his nightstand or if he wouldn’t put his plate in the dish washer after eating late night snacks she would scold at him.

Not in the angry way but in the typical girlfriend way. She was right after all.

But this mess was different. She needed it to be there to have that last remaining piece of him. The pictures weren’t just enough, by having his scattered clothes to trip over she could still imagine he was there.

She always needed him to never not be there.

Deciding to take the nearest tee sprawled on the floor she held it close and searched for his cologne.

It was something she had requested it was what she noticed right after he had left. He knew she would be miserable and to show that he always thought of her and understood her struggle, he left his cologne.

It was the same as everything else and it meant so much. Even the simplest spray could be enough to satisfy her for as long as it lasted. She had also sprayed over their bed to make sure the feeling of him would always be there.

She had mixed emotions after changing her shirt into his and she glanced over at the full body mirror.

It was too long for her, he was a tall guy after all and it was proved when she was wearing his clothes. At least it didn’t have sleeves and she folded up the end of the t-shirt to make it fit better. It was her favorite shirt of his, he was aware.

It was the reason why he had left it behind.

For days like these to remind her that the feeling of home was still there. She always wore his clothes but when he wasn’t there it was extra special. Almost like a secure blanket.

After spraying the cologne over the black fabric she took one last glance at the mirror with a sigh.

Hanging by the edges of it were lame polariods she had printed out from their computer in the living room. The quality was horrible but it didn’t matter the slightest because one thing meant for sure.

Even in the ugliest frames they were always best with each other.

The cup was warm between his hands and the steam coming from the hot liquid made his nostrils flutter. He loved the smell, it had something different to it and the flavor was even better.

He tiptoed away from the kitchen after finishing with his tea bag and threw it into the trashcan. For once he had made a fantastic example but nobody was there to witness.

Small lyrics from several of his songs came from his lips as he took the walk from the kitchen and back to his bed where the TV was still going on.

He didn’t pay attention to what was going on, it was something he had seen before but it was quickly removed and he zapped through to find a channel that was more appropriate to use as background noises.

Once settling with something random that was less noisy as the other thing he throw the remote to the mattress and saw it bounce twice to the sheets. He stood for a minute processing his thoughts before he looked towards the windows to his balcony and took a look around.

The tea was hot on his tongue and he was prepared. It wasn’t the first time he had burned himself on the tea whether it was on the hand or in the mouth.

Usually it would be followed by a laugh and a quick ‘Here let me help you with that’. He hated being the helpless guy but with his clumsy attitude it almost couldn’t be avoided.

Besides the attention was better than nothing. He didn’t even want to react over the burn, he just kept on drinking and let the flavors explore his mouth.

The city nights were beautiful but almost faint by the early mornings. The stars were barely able to be seen and if he looked closely he could also see his reflection again.

At moments like these it was where all the thoughts were considered over and over.

He thought back to the moment where they departed. They had both agreed that she would stay at home, sometimes being at the airport was too crowded, people lacked respect and they wouldn’t get a proper moment to say goodbye.

Not that it was any easier doing it right at the front door. It was almost worse, to witness that she would be staying there for the next couple of months, alone.

He didn’t know what to say, there was never a proper goodbye to it. They always tried to stay as silent as possible to not make the situation worse. They both knew what was about to come and being so close to each other was almost like reading the other’s mind.

The kiss was what meant the most. It was where he could express everything he couldn’t in the silent words that were fumbled around and not said properly like he wanted to.

To have that final moment where he could just pull her as close as possible and kiss her with all the love he had in him. That was the proper way of saying a long goodbye.

Her words was the hardest, he knew that deep inside she didn’t want him to go.

With a short look in his phone he used the math and tried to figure out what time it was. He didn’t want to FaceTime her, it was almost as painful as nothing because just the voice of hers could make him break down.

She was probably sleeping he would assume. But on the other hand he was also aware that without him by her side she was a sleepless wreck, staying up longer than intended and kicked away her sleeping schedule.

He couldn’t blame her. He was having a hard time himself trying to do anything he could by shutting his eyes but he knew it was pointless.

It was the reason why he hadn’t tried or gone to bed yet.

Opening the doors to the balcony he was overwhelmed by the feeling of lukewarm wind. It wasn’t cold but fresh and he could hear a few birds tweet from a few balconies away from his.

He leaned over the rack with his tea in his hand and took a silent look over the buildings.

If he looked closely he was able to see an airplane in the distance making the typical wave of skies behind it, being like a little star on the dark skies.

He wanted nothing else but to wish he could be on it, fly all the way back to Sydney and right back in the bed where he belonged.

He loved touring, he loved everything about it but the thought of her sleeping alone without someone to cuddle, without someone to hold her close and tell her that he would always be by her side was killing him inside.

He knew that tomorrow would be another day, it would be one step closer to the final point but he didn’t want to look it like that.

His heart was arching to come home.

It was with a confusion written on her face Y/N noticed the note placed on the kitchen counter. She was in a search for an unused water bottle to fill up to prepare for going to bed but the hand writing was so familiar it was completely forgotten.

“In case of emergency you can fix the new dish washer by pressing reset or plug it out of the outlet. - L :-)”

The confused face only grew bigger when taking a look towards the mess of a kitchen she had and looked down at the dish washer as if it was shining.

“Oh my god…” The words were almost in a whisper and she read the note over again just to imagine the sound of his voice again.

His hand writing was so iconic it was almost hard to read what he was trying to say. Not to mention that his hearts looked weird, they were barely recognizable but she had grown to love them.

Hurrying towards the dish washer still with the note in her hand she leaned down to find the reset button and waited seconds later.

Either he wanted to mess with her or he did in fact know that she was gonna end up ruining it already. It just showed how much he knew her and how much he was prepared for everything to happen now that he wasn’t there to fix her mistakes.

Leaning over to grab the dishes after she assumed she had fixed it she hurried to clean up the mess.

It was times like these she missed. Not standing and doing the dishes because it was the most boring thing to date. But he always seemed to make it into something fun, that was the amazing person he was.

He shared joy no matter what room he walked into, he always made sure to put a smile on his face. Not because it was his ‘job’ or because he felt obligated to it by being her boyfriend.

He did it because it was the thing he enjoyed the most in the world.

And with such happiness in life when it was suddenly taken away temporary it was like a piece of her was completely gone. Like it was hiding in a box that she wasn’t able to open.

“Done.” She spoke to herself in almost disbelief seeing all the pots and plates being gone and leaned over to take the cloth to clean droplets of water.

She could have easily gone to a party trying to take her mind off or do something else. But she didn’t want to. The first days were something she wanted to recover, she had to get used to him not being around all the time.

It almost felt as giving up. It wasn’t the first time she had gone through this whether it was two weeks, 2 months or half a year.

All distances were harsh, time zones were killer but she tried to remain positive, smiling when she saw his Instagram stories or when she shared her snapchats. She also knew he was well aware of what she was doing too, commenting on a few pictures when she shared them here and there.

The yawn was pressed out of her lips and she knew that even as she tried to fight the sleep it was the only thing she needed.

Leaning over to stop the radio the silence almost scared her. She didn’t like it, she was used to sounds coming from him whether he was walking around whistling as he prepared for bed or if he was out at the bathroom making noises.

Oh how she just wished she could run out and take the next cab to the airport.

It was with a huge sigh she entered the bedroom again but it was as if it had gotten a different aura than last time.

This time it wasn’t just to pick a shirt. It was to actually go to bed, a place she always saw as her most comfortable zone.

She had been brushing her teeth alone without him to “accidentally” nudge his elbow into her arm and when she thought about it no matter how many times she scolded at him she just needed it right now.

The sheets were cold and without his radiating heat it would never become as cozy and warm as he would do it.

She was sure he was feeling just the same as her.

On the other side of the planet thinking the exact same thoughts because they were so drawn to each other soul mates wasn’t even the right term.

Luke yawned tiredly after placing the cup of tea on the nightstand next to his bed.

He hadn’t finished it there were still ¼ of the cup left but he decided to leave it as it was Thoughts had tired him down completely and even if he didn’t want to he forced his way over to the bed.

The smell of new cleaned sheets filled his nose after he had turned off the TV and crawled under the white wonders. But it was nothing how he liked it.

At home they would smell a mix of many things. They had the familiar smell of her perfume mixed in with his cologne and a little bit of sweat from them both. Usually it wasn’t a smell that would be missed but he felt he needed it right now.

He gently sat on the bed and threw his shirt over his head, looking down at the mess of his scattered clothes.

She probably missed that the most, he thought.

The only sound aloud was the beat of his heart. It was vibrating out of his chest, he could feel it tinkling in his legs and how his head was suddenly pounding by the feeling.

He barely wanted to look to the side to not see her around. Her hair tousled in front of her face and her lips parted as she was slowly falling asleep on the top of his arm.

Moving around in the bed he took off his necklace and placed it right next to the picture. And even with such distance apart he could feel his heart calm down and heat up by the smile of hers.

He knew that his sleep was needed and he was also so insanely tired it wouldn’t be long.

Looking out of the windows the stars had been replaced by the warm strong colors of the sun. The sky had turned into and orange and red ocean, and if he looked closely he could see the sunrise about to start.

He looked back at the ceiling and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. His eyes were tired and his hair was sticking to every direction possible but the last remaining thoughts of her were still keeping him up.

They were so close yet so far away.

“I miss you, Y/N.” He sighed softly to himself and closed his eyes in hope of seeing her face again.

Leaning over to grab his pillow on his side of the bed she embraced it hard to her chest and took in the smell.

It was better than nothing, it smelled like him and when he wasn’t there it was the thing she cuddled the most. She needed his arms around her, she needed that comforting thing he always did out of habit.

She looked out of the windows where the last remaining bit of the sun was about to disappear behind the shadows of the palm trees.

The sky was completely gorgeous, a mix of being warm honey colors but also turning dark because of the night ready to come. If she looked closely she was able to see the last remaining bit of the sun starting to hide below the horizon on the midnight blue ocean.

It was with that she knew that sooner than later the sun would rise where he was and no matter how long the distance was, they would always fall asleep underneath the same sky.

“I miss you, Luke.” She whispered again his pillow, thinking one last time how she just wished she could be beside him.

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this-is-not-a · 7 years ago

Text

What it means to have privilege

(Or, I once read a post on Scott Alexander’s blog about the social media response to MIT’s Professor Aaronson, a white male, lamenting about his romantic problems)

Peggy McIntosh once made herself a White Privilege Checklist. Even if you’re not white, go through the list together with me and see which of these still apply to you:

1. I can if I wish arrange to be in the company of people of my race most of the time. 2. If I should need to move, I can be pretty sure of renting or purchasing housing in an area which I can afford and in which I would want to live. 3. I can be pretty sure that my neighbors in such a location will be neutral or pleasant to me. 4. I can go shopping alone most of the time, pretty well assured that I will not be followed or harassed. 5. I can turn on the television or open to the front page of the paper and see people of my race widely represented. 6. When I am told about our national heritage or about “civilization,” I am shown that people of my color made it what it is. 7. I can be sure that my children will be given curricular materials that testify to the existence of their race. 8. If I want to, I can be pretty sure of finding a publisher for this piece on white privilege. 9. I can go into a music shop and count on finding the music of my race represented, into a supermarket and find the staple foods that fit with my cultural traditions, into a hairdresser’s shop and find someone who can cut my hair. 10. Whether I use checks, credit cards or cash, I can count on my skin color not to work against the appearance of financial reliability. 11. I can arrange to protect my children most of the time from people who might not like them. 12. I can swear, or dress in second-hand clothes, or not answer letters, without having people attribute these choices to the bad morals, the poverty, or the illiteracy of my race. 13. I can speak in public to a powerful male group without putting my race on trial. 14. I can do well in a challenging situation without being called a credit to my race. 15. I am never asked to speak for all the people of my racial group. 16. I can remain oblivious of the language and customs of persons of color who constitute the world’s majority without feeling in my culture any penalty for such oblivion. 17. I can criticize our government and talk about how much I fear its policies and behavior without being seen as a cultural outsider. 18. I can be pretty sure that if I ask to talk to “the person in charge,” I will be facing a person of my race. 19. If a traffic cop pulls me over or if the IRS audits my tax return, I can be sure I haven’t been singled out because of my race. 20. I can easily buy posters, postcards, picture books, greeting cards, dolls, toys, and children’s magazines featuring people of my race. 21. I can go home from most meetings of organizations I belong to feeling somewhat tied in, rather than isolated, out-of-place, outnumbered, unheard, held at a distance, or feared. 22. I can take a job with an affirmative action employer without having co-workers on the job suspect that I got it because of race. 23. I can choose public accommodations without fearing that people of my race cannot get in or will be mistreated in the places I have chosen. 24. I can be sure that if I need legal or medical help, my race will not work against me. 25. If my day, week, or year is going badly, I need not ask of each negative episode or situation whether it has racial overtones. 26. I can choose blemish cover or bandages in “flesh” color and have them more less match my skin.

I scored 11/26 (How did you do?), which roughly reflects my experience as a Chinese American male; most of the stereotypes based around my ethnic group lean positive or neutral, at least in the sense that I am not prejudged to be threatening, stupid, or lazy; I think most other ethnic minorities in the US would score much lower on this checklist. By many metrics I am Basically White ™. If I wanted to add a few of my own specific ethnic privileges to the bottom I might include:

27. Other students don’t assume I am stupid or slow at work or in school because of my race 28. I don’t worry that police officers will be made uneasy when they notice my race 29. I can scan my social media feed without reading articles that antagonize my race in order to make a larger point about justice

And if I wanted to include some privileges my gender affords me:

30. My personality flaws are not generally attributed to being part of a larger truth about my gender 31. I don’t worry about attending social events with my coworkers 32. I can reliably expect the leadership at my company to be comfortable interacting with people of my gender

I think this is a useful exercise because it projects a unilateral concept into a more detailed multi-dimensional space. Part of my privilege means that I will be welcomed with open arms into the Math club, but some of my friends joke about not trusting me to drive them around. The same is true if you’re white; you are afforded a whole bunch of racial advantages, but even if your family grew up poor your upper-middle-class friends tell you you’re “playing life on easy mode.”

II.

I had amazing friends in college who could make me laugh so hard that I couldn’t breathe, inspire me to think on hard problems and sit and think alongside me, and make me believe that I could be great and change the world. A positive attitude towards learning that was instilled in me from high school meant that I didn’t fall down the trap of trying to be the smart-but-lazy guy who doesn’t care about anything. I would challenge those friends and assert my passionate view that caring about things is what’s cool. And this attitude meant that I did quite well in school and found a good balance of truly pursuing my interests and pencil pushing enough to build a resume without descending to the view of some of my other friends who insisted “the only point of college is to get a degree so you can get a job.” What I cared about was learning.

Oh and finding a girlfriend.

(Yes, I hoped maybe I could skim around that part and paint an otherwise lofty and pedantic portrait of my teen years. But the truth is, like most other teenage boys, I was absolutely obsessed with girls since basically high school for almost every moment I wasn’t actively engaged in an activity.)

You could break this down into equal parts cultivating my self-image and dealing with my fear of loneliness. I wanted to be the main character in the movie who “gets the girl,” and I wanted companionship and partnership. This type of objectification (that’s what it was; not all objectification is sexual) wasn’t necessarily healthy, but I think it’s something that a lot of teens go through and therefore something worth being honest about. There is a tendency to put people who you romantically desire up on a pedestal so that they become perfect-in-every-way symbols, and eventually cease to be real people in your mind. I wanted a girl - any girl - to show romantic interest in me largely as a way of validating my own personality. (I have grown since then but not enough that admitting this doesn’t still make me a little uncomfortable. It’s still mostly true.) I wanted an imaginary goddess who could only speak truths to appear to me and say “you are a good person and those eyebrows are perfect.”

Here’s one more bullet point I would want to put on the list, but crossed out because I don’t find it to be true:

33. I don’t worry about finding people who are willing to be in romantic relationships with people of my race and gender

In high school I first heard the phrase “Asian fetish” and knew instinctually that it didn’t apply to me. I knew that nobody out there found Asian boys like me attractive or sexy. I knew that my only hope was to be funny and creative, and maybe one day a blind person with no concept of physical attractiveness might fall in love with me (I’m being glib not offensive, just FYI if you’re blind). And the reason I knew it is expressed in another two bullet points that I need to cross out:

34. I see popular movies where someone of my race and gender ends up in a romantic relationship 35. I can easily find popular media where someone of my race and gender is portrayed as romantically desirable instead of comic relief

And to teenage me, who cared so much about finding a girl who might like me, this was a big deal, and it sucked. Why weren’t there ever whispers of girls with supposed fetishes for Asian men? Why were there dozens of TV shows and movies every year in which white guys and Asian girls fell in love but none where an Asian guy, who by all accounts might even be smart, funny, and attractive, ends up with any girl at all? I didn’t know what it meant but what it felt like was the world’s way of telling me “that kind of thing isn’t for people like you,” and even now I still have trouble outgrowing these things that I knew.

III.

Let’s take a step back. I know what you must be thinking. I’m thinking it too. How easy does my life have to be that my one complaint is that girls don’t find me attractive? How little agency do I have that I’m unwilling to admit that maybe I’m not such a catch and it has nothing to do with my race? Do I think being sexualized is so great that it’s worth the resulting increased rates of sexual violence? There are tons of articles out there written by actual women who have actually experienced this thing that they never asked for, to be sexualized and objectified by the media, and the verdict is in - it’s not worth it. And if I really can’t see that then maybe I should take another look at my privilege list. (Knew that thing would come in handy!) These articles are positive contributions to an important discussion. I just don’t think they exactly address what I’m talking about here, and if you’re not paying attention you might accidentally fall into that pit.

Sexual violence and sexual representation are not two sides of the same coin. I don’t think there’s any amount of sexualization from the media where the perks of being seen as desirable necessarily morph into a societal expectation that you exist solely as an object of desire. Instead I think that there are empowering forms of representation and reductive forms, and though the line between them is sometimes blurry that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, and it definitely doesn’t mean that all forms of representation are equally helpful or detrimental. I also don’t think that when someone complains about not having representation a valid response is to say “well look what representation gets you.” In fact, in general when someone is expressing their own pain, I don’t think explaining why their pain is not as big as other people’s pain is a real response so much as a method of derailment. In this case, I think of this topic as a long walk I need to take with my two legs moving individually. One leg is the unhealthy part of me that habitually aggrandizes the people I find attractive, and then finds that aggrandizing is surprisingly close to diminishing despite the metaphorically clean hope that they would be opposites; because to treat someone as being above-human means I am no longer treating them as even-human-at-all. The other leg is the part of me that just wants to be loved and wants to matter to someone. And if I bind them together then I will find myself needing to hop everywhere and growing tired (and falling into a pit).

It’s with the second leg that I want to express to you that I do not have the privilege of being proud of how my race is seen romantically, and I wonder if you do. I wonder what kinds of men and women out there get to be reasonably sure that their race isn’t standing between them and attracting a romantic partner. And I wonder if those people are even aware of it. Because like I said before, I’m not really that different from my teenage self. Things like writing and music are more important to me than ever, but an embarrassingly large part of me can only think about finding a life-partner, and to that part of me this single bullet point is one of the most important of the list. I know it’s not charismatic to admit that this kind of thing matters to me. I know this just makes me come off as a cry-baby. (And since I’ve just said it you can’t score any points by making fun of me for that.)

But if you think you understand privilege and your immediate reaction to, for example, the idea of a nerdy white guy expressing his pain about romance is that he needs to think about his privilege, even before I give you any details about what he wrote, if your nagging suspicion is that he must have said something in a somewhat misogynistic way or that he perhaps has a pent-up hatred of women that he can’t see himself and maybe Jordan can’t see either, maybe you don’t understand privilege as well as you think you do.

#privilege #asian american

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