The Universe is Trying to Kill Me

I know what you're thinking.

“Haha,” you think, “Kira is making another 'funny joke.' The universe is trying to kill her. How droll.”

No. I'm fucking serious.

I don't know what I did in a former life to deserve it, but I swear to Spock that someone or something has a grudge and is trying to kill me.

Reasons that I know this:

1. Every time my friend tosses something to me, in inevitably hits me in the face.

2. I'm allergic to everything. Okay, not everything, but all those things normal people take for granted? No can has.

   1. Wheat? I'm gluten sensitive.

   2. Dairy? I'm lactose intolerant.

   3. Grass? Allergic.

   4. Certain soaps? I'm allergic to at least two, that I know of.

   5. Pets? The dander makes my eyes itch.

   6. Nature? I live in terror of pollen. It makes me cry. Literally.

   7. Nickel? Gives me hives. And did you know that nickel is in practically every piece of jewelry ever? It is.

3. I fall down stairs. A lot.

4. I fall up stairs. A lot.

5. I have three younger siblings. If that's not revenge of some sort, I'll eat my pants.

Damning evidence in my favor, isn't it?

“But... Kira,” you say, “Couldn't this all be explained by heredity, happenstance, and your own clumsiness?”

God, you're such a smartass. And sure. Maybe it's all just a coincidence, trumped up by my own ego and paranoia.

But then how do you explain THIS LETTER?!

Dear Kira,

I hate you. I'm going to make you die.

Love,

The Universe

I rest my case.