November 1, 2015
Today is the end of my 2nd week in a foreign land.
Totally jobless. Certified BUM.
No calls. No invite. Nothing. Total silence.
Everyday gets scarier. Every single day I have to shower my fickle and weakling soul with faith because all my hidden insecurities are getting bigger, creeping out of my treasure chest, eating my sanity alive.
I departed the runway
Full of thoughts
Full of goals
Full of dreams
Full of determination and confidence.
I planned this trip with an end goal in mind: Success.
I treated this as my responsibility.
My own little runway of success.
A giant leap of faith.
But every day is a torture
A dull picnic with trauma
Eating rejection in the morning shine
No phone call
No interview invite
And a very polite message saying that it is not about me, but them.
They regret it, they said.
They were sorry.
So am I.
My faith is depleting.
My confidence is getting weary.
My goals seem to be impossible to reach.
My life is shrinking and I am like a tattered pages of a tragic novel.