Venezuela has been going through a bizarre and excruciatingly long “calm before the storm” period all throughout February. All of the actors (be it internal or external) have continued to move their pieces in the latest chapter of the Venezuelan crisis. 

I find it opportune to once more bring up the fact that this is a battle of interests between east and west, between the regime, their allies, and those who oppose it. Everyone wants to protect and secure what slices of Venezuela they own already—and getting more if possible; be it China, Russia, Cuba, America, Turkey, et al.

At the center of it all are the Venezuelan citizens, the ones that have suffered the worst out of this nightmarish onslaught. We’ve all lost something, be it loved ones, family, possible futures, stability, material objects, weight, health, opportunities, and time.

We know how we want this nightmare to end, but we don’t know how or when it will finally end.

America’s humanitarian aid has been the centerpiece of the latest developments in this crisis. Maduro’s Regime has redoubled their efforts in order to block and prevent its entry no matter the cost, going as far as shutting down most of our borders. 

We’re hours away from the promised defiant entry of this aid, spearheaded by the opposition. Whether or not blood will be spilled tomorrow is something that we’re about to find out; let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, as there has been casualties already.

I’ve been very distressed lately, the only times I’ve felt like this have been when my mom was diagnosed with cancer and during her tragic passing. There’s so many things happening around my life right now, things that I don’t have control of; things that I very much depend on for the continued well-being of my brother, and my head feels like it’s going to explore due to all of this overwhelming stress. I feel like I don’t have control of anything anymore.

The growing uncertainly has mixed in with other personal problems, burdens, and doubts in my mind, creating a perfect storm that has worn me down lately to the point that it has affected me both physically and mentally. Thankfully I’ve recovered from most of the stomach woes, but my mind is far from being at ease, it feels like my brain is about to explode. 

I’ve tried so hard to find a way to migrate legally with my brother; I knew it wouldn’t be an easy task but it seems like it’s one that becomes harder every day. I know I am not the most studied or the most brilliant man out there, but I just want a chance to work and provide for my brother away from this country that has taken so much from us. I just want my brother to be happy and have a chance to come out of his shell and unleash his potential. I simply want us to find our role in this world, but I just feel so trapped right now.

Some embassies have closed its doors, others have made it very hard to obtain a visa as a Venezuelan. I know a person whose mother just passed away in Canada and he wasn’t able to obtain a travel visa in time in order to be with her in her final days. It has been now over two weeks since his mother’s passing and he hasn’t been able to make any progress.

The country’s economy is at its worst. Securing food amidst hyperinflation continues to be an uphill battle, and there’s certain upcoming changes beyond my control that might jeopardize the way we currently receive the aid that allows us to have sustenance. I have some contingencies planned should the worst come to pass, but the uncertainly causes quite the mental anguish.

It’s like every time I get close to solving one problem towards escaping two more show up. I only have two hands and I’ve felt overwhelmed by it all—and that’s without factoring the day to day tribulations of being in this Socialist Utopia™.

I’ve been reminiscing of the past lately, longing for those days when everything made sense, where every piece fit, and when we were happier; that’s what I want in my life, a sense of normalcy. I lived all my life as a social outcast, going from one place to another, a new school almost every year; I think this is finally taking its toll on me. I don’t have anyone to talk to here anymore, even the psychologist that was attending my brother last year left the country so I feel alone in this regard.

As soon as my brother wakes up every morning I put on a happy facade so he doesn’t see me distressed, I don’t want him to worry at all.

There’s other problems of varied nature that should be easy to solve under normal circumstances but I haven’t been able to, alas, this is Venezuela. Even getting that damned Venezuelan passport extension has its own set of obstacles, which I’ve been trying to overcome. 

Hopefully, I can move forward with my passport extension soon, but even so, I still lack a destination to arrive with my brother, somewhere where we can crash for a few days while I get up on my feet and find a job to provide for the two of us.

I’ve been getting weird phone calls lately, some of which have tried to get info out of me via sloppy social engineering. This, coupled with a close-call encounter I had with a high rank member of Venezuela’s military a couple months ago has given me concerns about my safety. That’s what I get for being the only person with my exact name in this country I guess.

Another of my concerns is finding a way for my brother to get out of his shell, that he can spread his wings and unleash all of that potential that remains locked in his mind. Even though he has his own share of disabilities my mother always strove for him to have a normal life, and that’s what I want him to have—a normal life.

I’ve tried talking to him several times about it but he’s not the most talkative person out there, he’d only talk about these stuffs with my mom. You can have a long conversation about things like fighting games and Pokémon with him, but having conversations about his future or anything beyond what he has a grasp of is really difficult for him.

My father continues to act like the victim. I honestly don’t feel like fighting with anyone right now and I let him know that much. He holds in his hands a key that can get us outta here asap, if only he’d grant us an Italian passport via his nationality then we could have an easier time escaping, but he never did, c’est la vie.

I said I’m not the most studied man out there (one of my greatest regrets, which I have only myself to blame for), so I’ve placed my efforts in my last card: my novel project. 

Sword of the Nation’s second draft is almost done, eighty pages left to review. The fact that I’m stuck in Venezuela poses a challenging obstacle when it comes to publishing it. I know the draft is far from perfect syntax and grammar wise (English isn’t my native language and this is my first foray into writing), but the story is there, the characters are unique and fleshed out to the best of my ability, the heartfelt moments are there, the world building lore is present, and so is the action.

I am more than open to any suggestions with regards to not just destination countries and escape alternatives, but with anything and everything related to publishing Sword of the Nation, the first chapter of my large-scale fiction series.

I apologize for what it is a vent post in lieu of a better piece of content, but I needed to blow off some steam given all the things in my mind right now. No matter what happens over the next days in this country (and beyond), my ultimate goals remain the same: Build a good future for my brother, find our place in this world, help others achieve their dreams, and become the son that my mother deserved to have.

Hopefully everything goes well over the next days and I’m able to regain some control on my life and a much needed peace of mind, but for now I guess that the trick is to keep breathing.

-Kal


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