

The last time I came through American customs, it was when I was returning from a conference in Spain, and a colleague of mine got detained for 3 hours because he “looked suspicious”. Man’s a fucking engineer, with credentials out the wazoo, but apparently he fidgeted in line or something. Sitting there in the little space available just anxiously waiting for them to release him was harrowing, but I can’t even imagine what he went through. Nobody would tell me shit; in fact, the more I asked about him, the more it felt like they were treating me like a suspect. If they’d ended up deciding that he didn’t pass the sniff test, they could have taken him anywhere, and nobody would know a fucking thing about it for God knows how long.
Man, I’m getting sweaty just reliving that. Fuck I hate this country sometimes.
I’m going to throw a trigger warning on this next part just in case:
suicide ideation
I have been living with major depression for decades. I am taking medication for it, but that just makes it more manageable; it doesn’t go away.
I am alive today because killing myself would hurt the people I love. Also, because I have a cat that I love very much, and I don’t want him to have to miss me. Also, this is a much more minor driver, but I am excited for new seasons of my favorite shows and for movies I haven’t seen and books I haven’t read.
I find living to be a burden, but I feel obligated to do it because of my relationships. At the very least, though, I can find entertainment while doing it.