You will never be Californian. You were not born in the golden state. You have not lived in California long enough for you to be considered an honorary citizen. Your ancestors were not Californians.
You're a non-Californian twisted by Hollywood and California-based songs into a crude mockery of Californians.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back Californians mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of your immigrant background and your “friends” laugh at your obviously non-Californian accent behind closed doors.
Californian women are utterly repulsed by you. Hundreds of years in California have allowed them to sniff out immigrants with incredible efficiency. Even non-Californians who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a Californian. Your skin not being tanned enough from the sun rays is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk Californian woman home with you, she'll turn tail and bolt the second she gets a whiff of your non-Californian clothes.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself "But I wear a shirt that says I love California", but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your place of origin and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know you were born elsewhere. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably anything else but Californian.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
