There is a version of ourselves that only exists in the waiting…
No longer the person we were when we pressed submit.
Not yet the person we imagine ourselves to be if the answer is yes.
But one somewhere in between the two.
We refresh our inboxes,
over and over.
Reread confirmation emails that don’t change.
Count down the seconds as the deadline creeps in closer.
The waiting is strange.
It almost feels like it warps time.
Minutes feel like hours, and hours feel like days.
Meanwhile, an entire lifetime shrinks, compressed into one decision.
Time becomes measured in “until”:
Until a decision comes out.
Until we hear back.
Until we know.
In that pause, identity becomes provisional.
We ask questions we don’t know the answers to:
Did we say the right things?
Did we impress them?
Are we good enough?
The people making those decisions are strangers.
They have never met us.
They don’t know our experiences.
They don’t know our potential.
And yet their assessment, made in minutes, often redefines how we view ourselves.
The trajectory of our lives.
Suddenly, every accomplishment feels smaller, and every misstep larger.
For a moment,
we can imagine two futures —
One where we are chosen, and one where we are not.
And for a moment.
We exist in both.
So…who are we while we wait?
UF PRISM 