when the last paper ends too early

look.

let me explain.

i'm sorry if i've been shooting off. this is what i need this space for.

its not your entertainment.

but i'm telling you this now.

i'm sorry if i don't look the way you think i should. i'm sorry i do not meet your expectations of a particular set 'look' - which you have been conformed to believe it is so. i'm sorry if i am wasting your time. i'm sorry you have to even read this.

i. am. a. chindian.

i am.

and i am sorry if i'm not drop-dead gorgeous or a knock-out. my mom is a chinese-indo and my dad is chinese-indian-pak-sl - therefore you can comprehend for yourself that chindian, for me, is just a convenient label i use and you use to describe something thats extraordinarily ordinary.

for a long time i struggled with the fact that i am not something that i wanted to be - i wanted to fit in with the rest of the standard good looking chindians - but i'm not.

i'm not trying to look beautiful in my make-up. the only reason i put it on is cuz' somehow it makes me feel a little more extraordinary, a little more 'worthy'.

i am not beautiful.

and i am not photogenic.

i am not good with numbers and i am stupid with all things spatial-related.

i cannot take pictures without thinking about my huge jaw.

i hate how frail my arms look when i raise them up in defeat.

i count the number of toes and fingers i have to make sure i am my mother's baby girl.

i have dirt-brown eyes that are very faithful to my love for literature and art.

i can't eat a lot because food is not soemthing i enjoy: i eat to live and live not to eat.

screw your mind.

i cannot look upwards without squinting my eyes - so a distinct line shows - that i do not have ordinary chinese eyes.

i'm sorry if i can't be like the rest.

and i'm even more sorry that i can't go to sleep without pulling my eyelashes out and tugging at my lids.

goodnight.