As I'm certain you'll see if you keep up with my writings, Life likes to punish me for being happy. It's probably why I'm afraid of being happy, because every time something good happens (like it did yesterday), life has to swoop in and reprimand me, to remind me that I'm not supposed to be happy. It will do anything to make sure that any joy I get out of life is short lived. But I forgot that yesterday and, silly me, I was practically elated. I should have known that was a mistake.
So I've been waiting for my tattoo for over a month now;
had my first consultation with my artist at the end of March, another a couple of weeks later, and my appointment was set for today. Well, as it would turn out, instead of being a reward of sorts for my good work yesterday, I have to be punished because I did good work yesterday. And Life, being the fucking dick that it is, decided to hurt someone else so that I could be duly punished for feeling happy yesterday, which makes me feel even worse.
My artist had his financial world turned upside down earlier in the week by a stupid accountant and the IRS. I feel really bad for him, as none of it was his fault, it was his accountants. But, because he had to spend a better part of the week getting those affairs in order, it put him way behind on his work. So he had to reschedule my appointment for next week. He tried to call me earlier today to let me know, but of course, my phone turned itself off (something it does for absolutely no reason) so I missed the call. So I was practically vibrating in my seat with excitement while waiting for my appointment, only to get there and find out that I had no appointment today.
I certainly don't hold it against the guy; it's not his fault that he got screwed, but I feel super guilty, because I know that if I had bombed that test yesterday and been miserable, that wouldn't have happened to him. Sure, this happened to him on Monday and I wasn't happy until Thursday, but Life knows the flow of Time, and now he had to suffer so that Life could punish me.
Call me crazy, call me stupid, call me a one eyed, one horned, flying, purple people eater if you wish. But my entire life has been full of stuff like that. The only time bad things don't happen to me is when I stay miserable and unhappy. So long as I stay so, nothing bad ever happens to me. It's only when something good happens to me, or I get really happy or excited about something that shit like this happens. Is it the end of the world? No. Did I lose my arm in an accident? No. Will I never be able to get another tattoo again? No. Doesn't make me any less depressed.
Fuck you, Life.
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