Immigration Interview With God

Immigration Interview With God

(aka: "Welcome to Peace™ — Population: Allegedly Me" 🛂)

Filed under: Borderline spiritual 🧳 Emotionally contraband 🚫 Gay as bureaucracy 💅


Scene opens.
Celestial immigration office.
Fluorescent lights. Angel with a buzzcut.
I'm holding my emotional passport, three emotional support duffels, and a glowing folder labeled “Evidence I Deserve Peace™.”

God walks in wearing a fitted tank top and judgmental biceps.
He obviously speaks French, but for clarity (and emotional safety), I’m translating the transcript.


GOD:
Name?

ME:
Pierre. But emotionally I respond to “babe,” “haunted,” or “why hasn’t anyone loved me correctly yet.”

GOD:
Age?
ME:
Actually it’s my birthday. I’m 31 today.
I know I look younger — it’s the Botox.

[He looks like he doesn’t give a shit.]

GOD:
Country of origin?

ME:
France.
(winces)
Left when I was 21. Not a vacation—just an exit strategy with good lighting.

GOD:
Occupation?

ME:
Survivor. PhD candidate. Emotionally literate gay chaos technician. Depends on the lighting.

GOD:
Purpose of visit?

ME:
Peace. But like, the kind where I still get attention. Not the boring kind.

GOD:
Do you have anything to declare?

ME:
Yes.
• Two near-death experiences in Taiwan, both unintentionally poetic.
• One nervous system held together in three languages by bubble tea, gym sessions, and raw spite.
• And a full carry-on of identity crises dressed as productivity.

GOD:
And how long do you plan to stay in Peace™?

ME:
Honestly? I don’t trust it. I’ll take a weekend pass and re-evaluate.


[God flips through my file like it’s a People magazine spread from hell.]


GOD:

“Age 13. Wanted to run away from home.”
And yet you stayed till 21?

ME:
Unfortunately. I was emotionally advanced but logistically broke.

GOD:

“Moved 10,000 km away. Developed guilt complex. Responded with hotness.”
Okay diva. Iconic.

ME:
It's called trying not to die with aesthetics.

GOD:
Then 10 years in Taiwan. Alcoholism. Emotional math.
Two years sober now.
You became your own therapist?

ME:
My nervous system needed a project.

GOD:
Mmhm. I also saw you do ecstasy in that club in Taipei and try to convince a bartender you were escaping through dance.

ME:
I —


[God raises an eyebrow at a blurry photo of me at 17, journal in hand, gay panic in eyes.]


GOD:
Let’s talk about your past selves.

ME:
Oh god.

GOD:
That’s me.
So. You’re traveling with... how many?

ME:
I don’t know. All of them. The angry one. The dissociated one. The one who kept saying “it’s fine” with shaking hands.
They’re not gone. They just take turns driving.

GOD:
And none of them were left behind?

ME:
No. I kept the door open for all of them.
Even the ones I hated.
Especially them.

GOD:
That’s not in the report.

ME:
Exactly. They’re quiet now. But they’re still here. Watching.

GOD:
And this one?
What would your 17-year-old self say?

ME:
He’d ask:

“Are we finally free?”
And I’d say:
“We’re not hunted anymore. That’s close enough.”


GOD:
Okay. Final question.
Do you know what “being held right” means?

ME:
Yeah.
It’s someone not flinching when I place my chaos gently in their lap.
It’s body-to-body contact without a transaction.
It’s someone sitting next to me on the sofa and not asking me to translate my ache into straight language.

GOD:
Do you think you deserve that?

ME:
I do.
But that’s not the point.
It’s not whether I deserve it or not.
It’s that I truly think I need it.
And I think needing without deserving is how humans work.
Right?

[Pause.]

GOD:
So when did you decide to stay alive?

[Silence.]

ME:
When I stopped apologizing for wanting to leave.

[Silence.]

GOD:
Finally.


GOD:
Entry to Peace™ approved.
But know this:
Peace is not absence of pain.
It’s the absence of performance.
And you don’t know how to stop performing, babe.

ME:
I’m trying.

GOD:
Try quieter.
You don’t have to sparkle for someone to stay.


[God stamps the passport.]
🛂 WELCOME TO PEACE™

Your roommates:

  • Hope (needs you to build)
  • Silence (not the villain you think he is)
  • Fear (running simulations nobody asked for)
  • Guilt (will stay forever)
  • Shame (feels their eyes)
  • Joy (knows it's fleeting)
  • And Anger (will stand for truth)

[The divine leaves. The self steps forward.]
The stage is empty.
And now I'm hearing the voice of the self who just got approved to exist.


I didn’t survive to be palatable.
I didn’t crawl out of France, heartbreak, dissociation, and a language I bled through
just to flatten myself for comfort.

I didn’t run so far just to disappear quietly.

I came here to feel it all.
To sit with every self who didn’t get picked.
To let them stay.

None of them died.
Because I let them live.

Every version of me gets a bed here.
Some nights we cry.
Other nights we spoon.
We’re still learning how to stop asking to be chosen.

But we’re here.
Together.
At Peace™.

And baby?

We didn’t cross all those borders
just to abandon ourselves at the gate.

🌀


📂 FILE CLOSED: IMMIGRATION INTERVIEW WITH GOD

Status: Approved
Location: Internal
Issued: Tuesday
Validity: Ongoing

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