A real life curse.

I’ve been working on a few things lately. Mostly trying to survive by cursed birthday week, but I’ve had other works laying around. I can’t disclose anything right now, but I’m looking forward to sharing it all with you.

First, let me tell you about a real life curse. I’m not particular superstitious—it’s not my thing. However, I have a curse, and it goes back to my twelfth birthday.

As mentioned in my last blog post, that day my grandfather—my mom’s dad—was buried. Most of my mom’s family was Jehovah’s Witnesses, so there wasn’t any particular reason to reschedule. We don’t celebrate birthdays, and never actually has. With that said, though. It wasn’t amusing to be bawling on my birthday.

I tried to be optimistic, though. At least I got cake... And my family was there. Some my aunts and uncles—who weren’t Jehovah’s Witnesses—even slipped me a coin or two as a birthday present. As sad as it may sound, my grandfather’s funeral was also the only birthday I’ve seen any of my relatives outside my closest family.

But it didn’t end there. Denmark has many crazy cultural differences from the rest of the world. One of the differences that aren’t so crazy was the tradition of sharing candy with your whole class on your birthday. I couldn’t do that—not because my family forbade me to, though. But because my birthday always landed in the Danish Autumn/Fall break.

When I was thirteen, I met a guy who happened to be my first actual boyfriend. His birthday was four days after mine, and I was psyched when he asked me to be his girlfriend, and then he proceeded to go on a vacation for the duration of the week.

I was excited and then put on hold for a week. My birthday were spent texting him from my computer because I didn’t have any credit on my phone. Later I found out that the texting actually cost over  100 dollars.

Then on my fourteenth birthday, I got into a huge fight with my roommate at the boarding school. We ended up insisting on moving apart. It was the first birthday spent at the school (because it was a Sunday, and I went back there) and I was busy fighting.

Fifteen, I was fighting with an ex-boyfriend, and had to break up with my at-that-time boyfriend. I also twisted my ankle.

Sixteen, I found out my parents had to be separated.

Seventeen, my best friend forgot it, and only barely saved it by buying me a jawbreaker candy. (I really like candy) I then proceeded to go to a LGBT club, which wouldn’t have been a problem, if it weren’t for the fact I was stranded in a foreign city with no way of getting home.

Eighteen, my dad found out I’d been smoking weed, and he wasn’t even angry—he was disappointed. This, to me, was even worse, because if he’d been angry and yelled at me, I could have pulled the “You just don’t get me” card. I spent my birthday party trying to suck up while my boyfriend at that time was high on coke and apparently was punching my dad’s tree. I also had a massive hangover the day after.

Nineteen, I’d earlier found my best friend—a girl—in bed with my boyfriend, and while I had lied and told everyone that it was “cool”—It wasn’t. So when I had to spend my birthday at her place because she shared my birthday and held a party, which all our friends were going to—it sucked.

Twenty was a hoot. Except for the fact that we’d spent this humongous amount of money on a party for 60 people were only 21 showed. My roommate at the time almost bailed because she didn’t have a ride, so my mom went to pick her up. It didn’t make it better that my older brother had been out drinking the day before—apparently it’s a big thing when the Christmas beer is released—so he couldn’t show.

Twenty-one, I was admitted into a hospital in Germany, with humongous pains.

Twenty-two, my two male rats died on the 16^th. My birthday was the 17^th.

Of course, this doesn’t always happen at the 17^th of October, but the week around it. And it’s a stressful time for me. So when I this year, decided to do absolutely nothing of importance—I was prepared for the worst. And it seemed to be eventless. I spent my whole birthday playing League of Legends with my brother who was here all week.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when my curse continued on the 19^th this year. For the first time in my life, I was stuck in an elevator. Everything had gone somewhat smoothly, no disasters that were of the normal “life hates me” variety. At least, not until there. I was terrified, even though I was only stuck between the basement and the first floor, I was sure that I was going to die in there. It didn’t help when my mom decided to sing either.

So yes. The curse continues. But I’m still living. I have some incredible friends now, and even though I continuously try to avoid facing reality, I’m gonna live.

I know that I’m still waiting for the next disaster to happen, but—knock on wood—maybe the curse is losing its power. And who knows? Maybe the rest of this year has something surprising in store for me. It could happen.

Anyway, the above ramble is why I’ve been deliberately off the grid for the last week. I’m slowly getting back into my normal self. I’ve finally managed to make myself a writing place, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time—and here I am writing at this awesome desk, sitting in this awesome chair, and listening to some sweet tunes on the TV I finally managed to plug to my computer.

With that said, though. I can’t promise updates on everything. Nanowrimo is approaching, and I will be writing a completely new work for that. Well, at least, I’m writing the last book of my “The Lores of Lyra”, and I’m psyched!

I hope everybody else is well, and that your past week has been disaster free. Thank you for all the birthday wishes—it made me happy.

See you on Wattpad!