This is how I see it,
My father gave me the best he ever could. He didn’t know English and he was never able to help me with my homework, but he gave me my first weapon; a book. He knew he couldn’t do much else, but force me to read.
He used to tell me the more I read, the more knowledge I would have; the better I’d do in school and in life. I read chapter books by the time I was in kindergarten. My father didn’t know that he actually gave me the key to open up my imagination.
Everything I read was about white people, white people’s lives, white people’s tears. I grew up in a very strict conservative Vietnamese home. Everything I read in those books, I never experienced or felt. I had to imagine.. And I created a lot.
There’s a saying in Vietnamese, “tham chơi” my father used to ask me why all the time. Now I know why. It’s because of you dad, you gave me my first brush to paint however I wanted to see the world. He opened up the doors for me explore, to dig and find out all the answers. But the exploration continued through printed ink rather than the actual physical world my father locked me away from.
I think that’s why I crave going beyond my house doors. It’s why I crave for adventure, explorations and answers. I always want to learn more and I have so many interests because all I did was read.
But it also made me feel inferior. Because everything those stories had, I didn’t. I read to pretend I did.
I just want a shawty that I can go to shows with and enjoy 2am faded nights looking for the right place to go eat.
Referenced this image: http://static.comicvine.com/uploads/original/9/96675/3418996-childish-gambino.jpg