Bad Luck in Love

I've always had bad luck in love. I don't know why nothing turns out the way I want it to. Is it me? Of course not, I'm probably the nicest person anyone has ever met. It's all because of those stupid and gullible bastards with their horrible misunderstandings. Why does everything have to be my fault? Why do I always have to suffer for these ungrateful people? I've never done anything wrong and yet all the good things that happened in my life are now gone. Why?

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It started when I met my childhood friend Chris. We were neighbors and inseparable. We first met at the age of five when I lost my father. It was a hard time for me.

That day was the day we held his funeral. I wore a black dress that reached down to my knees as my long, light brown hair that slightly curled at the ends flowed needlessly down to my waist. I was five at the time so I didn't quite understand what was happening. All I knew was that my father was no longer going to wake up. But why wasn't he able to wake up? I kept asking that question to the strange adults that I've never met before who also attended the funeral. And they kept saying the same thing to me, "Don't worry, he's gone to the sky but no matter what, he'll be with you in your heart." But that didn't answer my question. I asked why he could no longer wake up, not if he was in the sky. Their answers puzzled me. Why couldn't they say something that made sense?

After all the adults had the chance to say something to my father's body, it was my turn. I slowly walked towards the open casket and looked at his gray and slightly sinking face. He had dark brown hair and a horribly unkempt mustache. His eyes were closed, seeming as if he would never be able to open them again. He just laid there with a nice black and white suit, the same one I saw in the pictures of him and my mother on their wedding day. This was his favorite suit, the only one he would ever wear. He looked very nice and it even seemed as if he was smiling.

I stared at him and then reached out to touch his already sunken and gray cheek with my soft small hand. It was cold. Why was it cold? My father was the warmest person I have ever met. Then unknowingly, tears fell down from my green emerald eyes, landing on my father's cheek. Why was I crying? My father will always be with me, right? Then as I thought the tears would stop, more fell down. Why Why WHY...? Why will he never wake up, why is he still sleeping, he told me he'll stay with me forever?

"Why did you lie to me daddy?" I whispered quietly, yet somehow, everyone in the room turned and stared at me as soon as I said those words.

I took my hands off his face and wiped my tears while taking a step back as his casket was closed. I had a deep feeling that I wouldn't be able to see my father ever again. My legs felt weak as they fell to the ground while I watched helplessly as my father's casket was being taken. What was this heart-wrenching pain I felt in my chest, as if a bunch of knives continued to stab my heart over and over again? I placed my hand over my chest and clenched the dress. What was this horrible feeling? I hated it and never wanted to experience this feeling ever again. But fate has a weird way of doing things, doesn't it?

As I sat there I could feel the piercing stares on me as well as hear the ongoing whispers around me.

"Oh, what a pitiful child?"

"Who's going to take care of her?"

"Not me, I already have three at home."

"I'm too busy to handle a kid."

"Why don't we call her mother?"

"Not that b*tch, don't you remember how she quickly ran away with some young man."

"Why did Mark have to go and kill himself leaving his baggage for us to take care of?"