You know what? I’m tired. Like, “just-throw-me-over-the-wall-and-call-it-a-day” tired. I’m a single mom, a financial crimes investigator (yes, I help catch the bad guys), and a proud DACA recipient. You’d think after all the odds I’ve overcome, I’d be inspired, energized, maybe even hopeful. But nah—at this point, I’m just over it.

Let’s rewind for context. I came here as a kid, spoke no English, and spent years navigating life with the constant dread that my future was held together with duct tape and vibes. Fast forward to now: I’ve clawed my way up, worked long hours, paid more taxes than some actual citizens (looking at you, Jeff Bezos), and even built a stable career protecting people from identity theft and fraud. Not to mention, I’m raising a little human who loves McGriddles more than life itself.

And yet, I wake up every day with the same thought: What’s the point?

DACA is hanging by a thread, and I’m supposed to act like I care about its future? Sure, deport me. Do you want to come grab me now, or should I pack my bags? I’m ready to go with my stack of overdue bills, my kid’s sticky chocolate milk cup, and my three unread emails from my job asking for more “volunteers.” Let me save you the effort of a court hearing.

I mean, what are the options here? Go back to a country I haven’t seen since I was a toddler and try to explain the plot of Breaking Bad in broken Spanish? Or stay here and wait for someone to decide if I get to keep doing the job no one else wants to do anyway? Either way, it’s giving meh.

But seriously, the joke of it all is that DACA recipients like me are still proving ourselves. Still grinding, still contributing, and still being told we’re “lucky” to even have this sliver of opportunity. Lucky? Babe, I’m working 60-hour weeks, raising a kid solo, and trying to stretch my paychecks while holding my breath for some senator to decide my existence isn’t a threat to national security. If that’s “luck,” then what’s the prize—deportation with a pat on the back?

So yeah, I’ve stopped worrying. If the program ends and they toss me over the wall, fine. Just make sure I land somewhere with free Wi-Fi so I can keep streaming my kid’s favorite cartoons. And maybe send my manager a heads-up that I’ll be clocking out early.

Catch y’all on the flip side. Or the south side of the border. Who knows anymore?

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5634977&forum_id=2\u0026mark_id=5310486",#48343128)