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Editorial: There Is Absolutely Nothing Wrong With Me

Photo by Liwa Sun

Hey you. Yes, I’m talking to you. You see me around campus, traversing the passages from Stouffer Mayer College House to Van Pelt Library Weigle Information Center (or if I get kicked out of the booth I would say a bad word really quietly and relocate to the 4th floor Marian Anderson Music Study Center), and to Fishy-Benny (Fisher-Bennett Hall), and to the patio outside of the Alpha Chi Rho chapter house (where I regained my virginity), and back to my little room in Stouffer Mayer College House. You have seen me. Your eyes may have lingered on my face for a couple of seconds. You might even have waved and said hi to me. Whoever you are, we are parasocially involved with each other. Our connectivity is the pure manifestation of the new paradigm since the Great Vibe Shift of June 2021.

But do you see me?

Are you judging me?

Judge no more. I am here to tell you this: There is absolutely nothing wrong with me.

Let me prove this to you by breaking down the composition of me.

I’m a girl. There’s nothing wrong with that. It is encouraged, even. Take a look around you. The weltgeist of today has turned away from rampant femicide (noo) and towards a celebration for the fairer sex (yass). Do you think girls can’t be president? What’s next, are you going to tell me melancholy, bicurious Asians with blonde hair can’t be presidents either? Shut your white mouth up and listen.

I’m Chinese. Nothing wrong with that either. My great nation boasts 5,000 years of civilization, and you can learn all about that in this little oriental musical dance show that they put on across the nation every year. It’s coming to Philadelphia in June. I’m proud to be Chinese. My father is Chinese. Get this: even my mother is Chinese. Bet you didn’t expect that. Why would you? You judge people based on naught. Well, stop it. You stop it. I’m Chinese and it is your job to accept that. Sit your fucking white ass down and listen.

I’m thin, gorgeous, and svelte. If you think that’s something I should be ashamed of, then I don’t even know what’s wrong with you. I am so beautiful that the two beautiful Slavic women who host the famed podcast, Red Scare, have both sent assassins to take my life on multiple occasions. I said no Dasha you don’t have to do this. I said you know that my beauty does not detract from yours, and I’m just like other girls, and GRL PWR, and the future is female, and fuck the patriarchy. She was like poshel na khuy. I was like whoa girl, don’t be saying bad words like that. And then I had to fend off the other assassin that Anna sent that day, so I got too busy to continue my conversation with Dasha. 

Ok, ok. I may be the proud owner of a Rice Purity Test score of 33 (this is real, I just took the test again earlier this evening), but none of that represents who I am anymore. I’m not a whore, nor a drunk, nor an addict, nor a felon. (But I’m not a pathetic virgin either so don’t get it twisted.) People can change! I worry that your baby thinks people can’t change. I used to be a slut, bleached blonde hair, tube top, meatball hoagies (toasted) at Wawa… but people can change.

Fine! Maybe I have nine desktops open on my MacBook Air with dozens of windows on each one. But that doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with me! You know, when you have a bountiful brain like I do, your creativity and expressivity just pour out like a tempest and sometimes your hands scramble to create enough new word documents to record them.

There is nothing wrong with me. I would even go so far as to say that zero is exactly the number of things wrong with me. I am good, as opposed to not good. I medicate myself dermatologically and psychiatrically. I call my mom once in a couple of months. I text back within a reasonable window of time (1-5 business days). If you have beef with me, know that it is your fault. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me. Love to all (unless you think there’s something wrong with me, in which case, stop it).