Curses

Sometimes, when I’m having a really bad day, I like to imagine that life is a little different than how it currently exists.

Because, now, when I get sick, it’s just a virus, and when my skin breaks out in leprous rashes, it’s just an autoimmune disorder. And when my puppies decide to vomit all over my pillows, it’s just because the world is a land of chaos and coincidence and sometimes puppies, vomit, and pillows all happen to coincide.

Well, no more.

Because, isn’t it kind of nice to believe that, instead of random chance, there is a greater power at work - thwarting attainment, smiting down happiness, making people have terrible sinus headaches when they’d honestly rather be going to work? I think that’s nice.

At least that way, someone, somewhere, is getting to feel happy when I’m feeling miserable. And perhaps, somehow, someday, I will find that person, and cut off their head, or pee in their pool, or do something in some sort of bid of revenge. And then I’ll feel happy, too.

So, revenge demon, curse-happy human, demigod, or demonic force, wherever you are, casting sorrow upon my life, to you I tip my hat. I hope you’re happy. Because I’m not. I have a low fever, and a headache, and a rash, and a pillow covered in puppy vomit.

The only thing keeping me going, through these terrible, headachy times, is that fanciful thought of exacting revenge. That, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns. So, pray that I never find you, or that when I do, you’ll have a very good explanation for why you’ve smote so many elaborate curses upon me...like my building’s hot water heater, which usually works fine, but then occasionally cuts out mid-shower for no apparent reason except to cause much unhappiness and feelings of being really cold. What have I done to deserve such a curse?

And until that day, adieu.