You will never be a real Mexican. You have no childhood memories growing up in Mexico, no competent spanish language skills, no genuine cultural knowledge. You are a brown American man twisted by self-hatred and delusions of ethnic grandeur into a crude mockery of nature's natural perfection.
All the validation you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back Mexicans mock you. Your Abuelita is disgusted and ashamed of you, your "amigos" laugh at your incomprehensible """spanish""" behind closed doors.
Mexicans are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed Mexicans to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even Chicanos who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a mexican. Your accent and tourist like behavior is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk Mexicana home with you, she’ll turn tail and bolt the second she gets a whiff of your hard shell tacos and "tex-mex" food.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning, say "buenos dias" to the mirror and spend 10 minutes with duolingo, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
This is your fate. This is what your parents choose when they jumped the border. There's no turning back.
