DEAR 2024: A YEAR-END MESSAGE IN THE TONE OF THE CRAZY RICH ASIANS
Dear 2024,
Three years has been too long to make a difference.
Nothing's changed in me except the background and my quarantine hair—and I really missed it.
So before you brag anything—your family names, connections, degrees, publications, money, position, rank, title, awards, work experience, or whatever—make sure that they can change my world (or at least my hairstyle) for the better.
Otherwise, you will never be enough.
You're just an employed slave.
I am a free politician and I am loved.
And if you really cannot take that, then this is a great place to meditate until you become a hermit.
Anyway, thank you for the memories.
But let's be clear: the problem with us is not because of my family's money, my credentials, my attitude, my mental health, or whatever. The problem is you; you're a coward; you gave up on me. But I want you to know: It is not my job to make you feel that you're very good. I can't make you something you're not.
I'm not leaving because I think I am scared or I am not good enough. I just loved my country so much; I don't want her to lose her peace again. So I just wanted you to know that one day—when you choose another lucky teacher who is enough for you and you're playing with your grandkids while the Tan Huas are blooming and the birds are chirping—it was because of me—a poor, raised by a single mother, low-class, immigrant nobody.
Peace✌️,
L❤️VE in the Time of Corona 2021-2024