I’ll go to court if they make me – let them look at what they’re trying to deport in the eye, and tell them that if this isn’t what an American citizen looks like, I don’t want to be in this country.
I’ll fight that battle, I’ll stay in a fucking holding cell for 6 months pending trial. Because America needs it – a wake up call, that immigration is broken. If I don’t deserve to be here – 30 years of age, top of the field in the most in-demand industry on the planet, perfect mastery of the English language – a poet, a writer, a dancer, mathematician, engineer, a musician, an artist – then fuck them and their motherfucking system, fix it.
And hopefully make the world a better place for everyone, because we need to unite. We need to stand up and be better, man up and focus on the opportunities in front of us. Life fucking sucks, but we have the technology to fix it. I’ll go down a fucking martyr, not some deported, jail-ridden lonely wannabe immigrant.
And it breaks my heart to desire that it may make it a better place for Diane. I’ve become a better man. I want to stand up – and change the world. I don’t matter; there’s a bigger picture. I was selfish, trying to build a better life for myself, now I just want to give everything I have, do my best, because I feel like the world belongs to me, and I have a real voice in building the future.
She made me into this person: willing to risk it all, throw everything away, stand up, try to build a business, something I believe in, against all odds, and give everything I am to the woman I’m in love with: Eunice. Life-long ripples of causality culminating at my decision to marry the person I love, if she will have me.
These thoughts are a lonely grievance, burying a past relationship, the end of a 3-years long mourning process. Eunice, I love you.