I hate limbo.
This was a realization I had while stuck in the Narita airport for five days, trying to get back to some form of US soil. It was a time of being stuck between a fantastic time in Japan and an open future, with nothing to do but eat Subway and analyze passenger priorities. Five days of Subway sandwiches really puts the brakes on your desires to eat there again. Limbo is a trap between a past you have acknowledged and a future you can’t access.
I’ve been in limbo pretty much since I graduated. The year in China didn’t present itself that way, but I can’t deny that it was a state of existence that kept me confined between my life before and my life after. That year changed my life in many ways, both physically and emotionally, but it was undeniably a year of limbo.
I say this because I feel my brain’s status now as roughly the same as while I was in China — an amorphous, slushy, pudding sort of consistency. Limbo is a state of stagnancy, a lack of stimulation. My life and brain are both incredibly stagnant right now, breeding parasites that seek only to drain away my existence.
The past few months have been spent applying to grad schools — my lifeboat into some other sort of life dimension. They’ve all been submitted, and now is about the time when I’m starting to hear back from them. It’s still pretty early, and I’ve only heard back from 2 out of 7 so far, but I’m already at 100% rejection, and it’s hard to take rejection well when your life is a mosquito nursery in a barrel of pudding.
It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to need a contingency plan yet am too trapped in limbo to think. I’m all for suggestions. This is what I get for studying what I wanted to study.