• I’m bad luck.
    Anyone I love dies.
    Like my parents.
    They died last week, in a car crash.
    And my best friend.
    He died four days ago, when the cafe he was working part-time in exploded.
    And my dog.
    She was hit by a truck.
    I’ve noticed it only started two weeks ago, when my hamster was eaten by a hawk while I was cleaning his cage.
    Am I cursed?
    Nah, I don’t believe in that junk.
    Is someone playing a massively evil prank on me?
    No, I don’t think anyone would be that horrible.
    Maybe I am cursed.
    Maybe I did something so horrible that the gods decided to curse me.
    But what could I have done that warranted such a degree of punishment?
    Did I hurt someone?
    Did I unknowingly cause another person’s death?
    No, I don’t think that would be bad enough.
    Maybe I caused a whole country’s death…
    Nope, that would have been on the news.
    Whatever I did, it must have been really awful.
    Now I’m afraid to meet anyone.
    Afraid that I’ll grow close to them and love them.
    Afraid that they’ll die a horrible death, like my best friend and my hamster.
    So what’s the point of me being alive right now?
    I don’t know.
    But I won’t kill myself.
    That’s too cliché.
    It’s late at night, and I can’t sleep.
    Hang on-
    There’s someone in my doorway.
    I don’t think I know him.
    He’s holding a bag of something.
    He’s coming toward me.
    What’s that in his hand?
    Oh, my God!
    Someone, please call the police.
    I guess I love myself.