Everything is on pause.
There aren’t any plans to be made or had.
The only continuity I see these days is the greeting of a continuous stream of uncertainty. My physical existence lives suspended, hanging in its self-defined purgatory, whereas my mind finds itself constantly reeling. There is nothing static in my thoughts, they race like a hamster on a treadmill – continuously pedalling to no definitive end.
The fog of “what ifs” and false array of “back-up” plans swirl around me – my very own consciousness suffocates me. The awareness of my situation as I follow along on popular immigration blogs offers sharp jabs whenever I wade through the comments, looking for hope.
But that’s all it is – hope. We’re all just waiting, hedging our bets in the first lottery since 2008.
I waver in what I tell friends. Some days I express nonchalance, other days I am unfazed by it all, but then there are the days where they can see that I am downright terrified. It doesn’t matter that I know that alternatives exist, because when you’re vying for that something so badly, everything else sits in the periphery of what one can handle at that moment. Fear – that eroding feeling of constant anxiety – is what gets you, and right now, I’m downright scared about losing what I have.
My life is on hold.
I’m clinging onto the doorframe of the present, as everything makes its attempt to pull me forward into the near future. I’m dazzled by the prospect of ideas and plans that run the gamut of exhilarating opportunities to New York City banality. I want to do this and that; I want to have brunch with persons XYZ; I just want to be here. All of what should be simple desire are contingent on this one lucky draw from the lottery or some heavy duty fandangling of alternatives.
And you wonder why teachers always told you never to have all your eggs in one basket. It’s just that, sometimes, it’s inevitable.
P.S. I’ll explicate the H-1B and NEXUS application processes soon enough.
Image via Flickr (user: litherland)