I should feel like the luckiest man who has ever lived; instead, I feel like a man with no country. In that car accident, I should have died…it all would have been simpler, but I am alive without hardly a scratch for the sole reason that Irony likes to laugh and play around with my Fate. Part of me feels like I’ve been dead for a long time, and the other part mentions that perhaps the accident just killed the evil parts of myself. The only thing that has kept me alive is Luck and Hope, without them I would have been gone a long, long time ago. It’s like every other time I wanted to be dead, Something kept me alive; and the one time I wanted to be alive, I nearly died. It is the strangest part of my existence: that everything about me is polar opposite irony. It seems like my existence is a joke. No matter what I do, or how I feel, I am forsaken to a world where I only get the inverse of what I desired. For the longest time, I have wished to be dead, and that car accident could have been my golden ticket into an easier and softer place, but I can’t even have that. Anyone else in my situation would have surely been crushed and died. Yet, here I am the picture of health. I couldn’t be killed even I wanted to! So, now, I’m in this sort of Game of Life: two moves forward, tragedy, and then I restart, rebuild, continue, and get set back a few spots, though never truly ever falling off the board, but all the while I wish I could just turn in my piece – my final peace to everyone. If my mom were to read this, she might cry. I guess, I feel sort of sad that I didn’t die because life has been so damned hard on me these last several years, and a great majority of myself thinks I’ll never make Something decent of myself, and that puts me out almost more than anything else. I just adamantly do not know if my life will ever get better. And that scares me more than death itself, for it is all the more painful.