I am still sick. I hate how my parents never gave me space to be sick, and I hate that they never gave themselves space to be sick. I hate that occupation, war, and trauma caused them to be stuck in a lifetime of survival mode. I hate that that trauma was passed down to me, through them. I wish that immigrants had more privileges and opportunities. I wish that healthcare was not a privilege for the rich, but a right for all humankind. Being sick is reminding me of all the injustices that the Korean people have had to endure for generations and generations. I am trying to break the cycle.


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