Bad things have started to happen with me and around me. Just yesterday night I had kept something in the oven for baking and while I was away, my oven exploded, scattering tiny pieces of glass all over the place. Had someone been in the kitchen, they'd have been either burnt cause of heat or injured severely due to the flying pieces of glass, but thankfully nothing bad happened.

Earlier this week when I was baking pizza, a portion of my left hand got burnt simply because I wasn’t too careful in handling the pan and so the entire pizza pan fell on my hand. The burn was pretty bad. All the layers of my skin had swept away leaving a bare patch on my hand, but that’s not it.

Earlier today as I was rushing out of my apartment to go to college, I almost slipped on the stairs when my reflexes came into action and my right hand instantly grabbed the nearby iron rod - to prevent me from slipping down the stairs. The damned iron rod was not only rusty but was also sharp, so much that my index figure was cut, badly. I don’t know how to describe so look at the image and try to picture it in reality.



The first thought that came in my mind was that WTF is wrong with me! And that’s the very moment when tears started to flow like a river. To tell you honestly, I have had really massive bad turns in my life but never have I acted like this before. I am the person who would never ever cry in public. I had things in my control no matter what the circumstances but today I don’t know what happened. I seemed to have had lost all the control. I just couldn’t stop crying. The doctor actually got offended. She was like ‘I have done the best I could have done so will you just stop crying!’ Little did she know that it wasn’t even about her. It was as though something inside me was wrecked so bad that for once I had allowed myself to forget about controlling myself or what people may think - and just react however my system wanted to. Anyway, getting back to the wound, after what seemed like years in prison, I was taken to the operation theater and a surgery took place. The surgeon was talking on the phone inside the O.T. so you can imagine how much I’d have trusted her or the entire damned hospital which just couldn’t take a girl sobbing lightly in one corner of their huge building. Well, so now I have canula (however u spell that) on one hand and broken/cut figure attached to the other hand. The fate of the wounded figure is yet to be decided. As for now it’s dysfunctional and the doc. told me to pray for the chances that it gets back to normal, someday. I’m typing these series of unfortunate incidents with my left hand and I have like 3 assignments and an hourly week lined up. I don’t really know what’s next in my fate, but for now I think I’ve crippled my future with my own two hands.