Bad Luck

I’m a little worried about this one. I’m a semi-superstitious person, I don’t want to worsen the situation. Perhaps if I whisper, Reality won’t take notice. Well I certainly shouldn’t have directly mentioned Reality by stating its name. Ah, blast. Nevertheless, I’ll continue with a whisper. How do you whisper in written word? A smaller font? Hmm. Well, as I am writing this on a laptop, I will only lightly and delicately touch the keys. Maybe that will do it.

I am having incredibly bad luck lately. It’s scaring me. It has reached a point in which I would not be surprised if I clumsily break a leg or sillily chop my body at the wrist. Not the slightest shock!

The events have taken all sizes. I have kicked over a glass of water, I have returned home to a fridge completely filled with mould, I have broken things unintentionally, and I have been face to face with a couple more weightier things like a threat of redundancy.

Now I have accepted these events in the past, but in isolation. I have stepped on numerous sharp objects in my life, too many to keep in one drawer. What is grating my chest is the condensed nature. I will accept twice a week, Life, but not forty seven in three days. I exaggerate, but the feeling can’t be too dissimilar.

I’m an optimist, and, I must admit, I have been terribly lucky across my days. One of my theories about this current episode relates to that idea, actually. I’ve had a few people call my a lucky person, but I had never said it myself. I refused to entertain the idea that somehow Lady Fortune favoured me a little more every now and then. But then, one day just a few weeks ago, I said it was true. A good thing happened to me, and I said it was because of my luck. How dare I. How could I have said something like that? Me? A regular human. Blessed with more. No, impossible. And so I think Reality decided to teach me a lesson. Reduce your ego, Sam. Don’t get ahead of yourself. All of the humans are equally blessed in their core. All of the matter is of equal importance to the makeup of Space. All of the components tick along at an equal beat to the tune of Time.

Whether it is true or not, I accept the charges. I think this potential retort from Reality is fair and that I think that says enough. Humble the mind every now and then. Remember the heartbeats and electricity. Remember the leaves of the clouds and the ticks of the tock. You are no better than a door handle, you are no worse than a TV stand. It’s a similar, throughout. Blossom on a breeze. And also, laugh at every misfortune that strikes you. What better thing could there be to do?

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[03.08.2023]