I wrote this story mainly because I was thinking about my dad.

My dad has always supported my dreams, and I’m really lucky to have him. He gives me money and tells me to spend it on whatever, and smiles every time he sees me buy art supplies—he still even grins whenever he sees me with art supplies, drawing away in my sketch book.

However, when I gave up drawing, he became really sad. I, being young(er) and immature(r) never noticed it. It wasn’t until a year after I had given up drawing did my dad finally ask, “Van, I use to see you draw every day. You use to spend hours and hours drawing on your computer, you use to spent so much money on that…on that tablet! What happened? Stop wasting your time watching Korean men, and start drawing. If you aren’t going to be that comic book person, or that animator you told me, then study math!”

That day, when he said that, I was angry. I was really mad, and frustrated with him. The reason why I gave up drawing was because the school I went to a super religious school, and they scolded me for drawing girls in anime short skirts (They did a freaking locker check). Since that day in 8^th grade, I gave up drawing completely.

I was so mad that he didn’t notice that I was writing, rather than drawing.  That writing was the only thing that would take my pain away from this world, that I thought, “What’s the point?”

However, that day, I finally decided. “I’m going to change schools.”

So, that day, I printed out the admission packet to a fine arts school and wrote an essay about why I wanted to go to that school. I met the principal, and she sympathized with me because of the last school I went to didn’t have art—thus now I go to a fine arts school.

But what made me really mad was the fact that once I told him that, he asked, “Why?”

I just wanted to yell at him, “It’s because I did it for you! You’re the one that wanted me to draw again!”

But I didn’t say anything.

But now, I started to think.

My dad was worried about me.

You see, when I was little,  I wouldn’t stop drawing. My parents hated the thought of me having a pencil because I would always draw on the walls, and on paper, and their receipts, and whatever. Heh, their biggest regret was when they let me buy acrylic paint and have me paint on the walls (Boy, did I get yelled at) and so on and so forth. So that’s probably why my dad was so surprised when I stopped drawing.

Anyways, what I’m saying is…I love my dad. My dad’ll support my dream no matter what, and even though he’ll die one day. (The day he dies will be a painful one…) I will still love him, and no matter what…No matter how mad I am, no matter how many times he scolds me, no matter how many times he comes into my room and wakes me up and asks me where the fish sauce is, no matter how many times he comes into my room and asks me to open the charger thing on his phone because he can’t see it, no matter how many times his Engrish is so bad that’s it’s embarrassing, no matter how many times his super loud sneezes scare people, no matter how many times he asks me to figure out how to use the internet and no matter how many times he gives me that weird crooked smile of his, he’s my father. And no matter what, I’ll love him because he’s done everything for me.

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Special thanks to chicken and ahjushi graphics for the amazing poster!