Poetic Letter #14

To the Lady of Luck, the fiddler of Chance and Murphy’s law…
15-4-15

Do you work hand-in-hand with God?

I must assume so,
Simply because you are a result of free will
And God has given us free will to make our own luck,
Thus what we pray and what we do are also hand-in-hand;
Do you like the comparison I made or will you punish me for believing?

You have taunted me so, right from my creation,
Starting with my weight as a child
Which grew into my weight as a teen
And then into weight as a young adult.
But that wasn’t enough, was it? No, it wasn’t –
See what I did there,
I asked a rhetorical question and then didn’t give you time to answer…
Boo hoo you –
It simply wasn’t enough to stick me with weight,
You conspired with the Almighty to stick me with
Severe Bipolar disorder,
Major Depressive disorder and
Generalised Anxiety disorder;
I’m so disordered that it affects my organisation.

It affects everything about me,
But you knew that,
And I hate you for it oh Lady Luck the fiddler of Chance.
I hate you for you never give me a real chance
Before jumping in with my maladies to mindlessly meddle with my mind.
You take away before I get the chance to experience
After giving gifts too important for you to give –
Another reason why I think God works with you,
Or you with Him – and too important gifts
Should never be snatched for fear of tearing something valuable,
Like a human soul.

This was going to be a humorous letter
Based on things I like such as tea and chocolate and cupcakes.
I was going to wish for a happy birthday this year
Full of friends (if I had many here with me) to attend a party
Full of tea and cupcakes.
I was going to ask for a day with no siblings fighting with each other;
No broken chairs or thrown cutting boards.
This was going to be light-hearted and happy,
But all I have in me is ‘meh’
Because the fiddler of Chance has fiddled with my feelings
And they fly from me faster than I can feel them.
Thus I am numb, meh, blerg,
And cannot even take my characters to the circus without getting stuck at 290 words.

So instead I ask you to bring back what you stole from me;
Happiness, sadness, laughter, joy and all the different shades in between.
I ask you, Lady Luck, to roll the dice once more and bring me something to keep me alive,
Something to keep me sane,
Someone maybe, but not urgent,
For as it is I sit and wait for you to stop fiddling and let things play out
They way you and God set them to.

Murphy and his law can wait too.
I no longer need the joy of saving money for a gift
Only to have it snatched by some inexplicable expense
Brought to me via Lord Murphy’s Law.

So, I hope you read this in good faith.
I wish you all the best,
But seriously…
Go fuck with someone else now.