My goddamn relatives won't quit sucking up to anyone with connections to the States. Take my uncle, who migrated forever ago and did nothing profound, but his widow's one visit made them revered like gods. All they ever gave us were hand-me-downs and J.C. Penney clearance boxes. It's sickening to hear them talk about the same damn thing over and over again.

When I posted photos from my New York trip, they flooded me with meaningless congratulations and empty remarks, dwelling on a single moment forever. Even when I archived their messages, they resurfaced like a goddamn rash. It's a constant reminder of my blood relatives.

I saw my cousins once, but they only repeated the same stories. There's nothing else worth discussing. Seriously, there's nothing special there, just smokes and mirrors. I refuse to live like them - it's a big fat L, losers. The pressure and embarrassment of bearing their name is just fucking hard.