It is not hypocrisy that you must fight against but rather the complicity in your own subjugation 

I’ve come to realize that by virtue of having these webpages established, that I’ve invited the public to actually read some of what I’ve written, and that being callous or flippant about its content is something that is, to my surprise, something that is observed and noted. Accordingly, the takeaway seems to be that it’d be better to be overly verbose and express myself in my own way, and have others make of that what they will, including ignoring it, in opposition to being overly vague and inviting misinterpretation.

I was born on the 23rd of October, 1991. I am the only child of my parents, whose deaths are the reason for the existence of all this in the first place. I am something of a private individual, and unless directly sought out, can be somewhat difficult to place. This is by intention. Heh, my parents had a very healthy distrust of the internet in the late 1990s and early 2000s; say nothing of their outright and wholesale rejection of social media, which also occurred. Writing this, they did in fact reject the concept of social media, even when I halfheartedly advocated on their making accounts so as to keep in contact with their families and old friends. This rejection extended to me, as I truly find discomfort in having the entirety of my life on the internet, forever. At least this, I’ve written, and have some control over what is here. My parents, nooo. Where mass society moved on many years ago, my parents still had a healthy suspicion of even putting their real names online. Society became okay with abandoning usernames and anonymity, but they didn’t. My mother found a lot of humor in Facebook in her last years, and its users—my dad, complete bafflement. And the platforms after? My mother knew OF Twitter, primarily due to the presidency of Donald Trump, but neither of them ever cared, and I suppose, had no reason TO care.

In the comedy of errors that has become my life, I’ve come to find that watching passively from afar is something of a suboptimal strategy. And now that I’ve lost my parents, have been violently ripped from the comfort that is passivity. But I remain the product of them, and remain proud of them. Their legacy lives on in my representing them in whatever capacity I’m able to—in my view, in living a life that they could ideally be proud of, or failing that, accept. But my parents were always indulgent with me; they were proud of me no matter my failings. They would be proud of me even now, despite my failings, poverty, inadequacy. That unconditional support is truly empowering, and something that not everybody gets. They deserve to be remembered, even if it’s only through something as trivial living on through me, and my meager online presence.  

Were anyone expecting to learn anything about me as a person in addition to all of this, I will say that I despise oppression where it exists, and can sometimes have something of a broad view as what I view as oppression. I have fairly strong political views. My favorite composer is Beethoven, though I do like the romantic era in general (Dvořák! Brahms!). I like to read, but am anti-elitist on what mediums I choose to read; I read fanfiction to this day! Addended to the end of this is text from a visual novel!

And that’s it. This is longer than I had intended it to be, but hopefully long enough to deter anyone who would attempt to distill me into a simplification of their convenience. I thank anyone who’s actually come here in search of my parents, however, and request that readers Be Bold! Should they have photographs or anecdotes, I would happily add them to their pages, verbatim!

Meow :3