Unlucky

1. changes

I won't say that I'm an unlucky person- okay, I will say it. I'm a very unlucky person, and if someone made a ten-minute slideshow of my life, they would be able to see it in every single sentence. I've been dealt a tricky hand, and I always appear to pick the wrong choices.

Now, don't get me wrong, I grew up in a loving home. Two parents, three insane siblings, and a white picket fence that wraps around our neat blue house like a lovely bow. For most of my 20 years of life, I've never been alone. I've been lonely, but never alone. That was practically an impossible achievement back home, and even at college, my kind roommate is a never-ending sight in our shared space.

I think that I would make a great subject for a therapist. I've been given everything, and I still manage to screw up. It's a talent of mine, one I developed after becoming self aware when I was young. I always have the right intentions, but I can never quite make things happen exactly as I want them to.

When applying to colleges, I got into every single one of the 10 schools I applied to except for my top choice. I'm satisfied with my second choice now, but I still don't understand how I failed to get in. Clearly, every other school loved me, but somehow, I just had to mess up. It's still a grudge I hold against that institution even as I'm about to enter my third year of college.

More recently, I did so badly at an interview that I thought I was going to cry in the middle of it. Constant stuttering and blanking out with simple questions. I think that even the interviewer felt some pity for me, and that was the end of my internship journey. I settled for a retail job in my hometown, trying to make myself believe that this won't put me that far behind.

And, of course, there's also my boyfriend, Dylan. I mean, ex-boyfriend. He was the first person I ever dated. We started out when I was 19 after he had pursued me for weeks with weak attempts to get me to want him. I never thought he was particularly attractive or my type, but I eventually accepted. All of my friends didn't understand how I could ever keep rejecting him, so I finally said yes to him.

Our four month long relationship feels like it lasted longer than what it actually did, and he was the one that pulled the plug. He had the nerve to claim that I didn't really seem like I was into him. How was I supposed to act? I wasn't about to start screaming about the love he was so desperate for me to feel for him to everyone I know. 

He said I wasn't committed at all and I had defended myself by saying that I just wasn't ready for more, but he said I was lying. I never really understood what he meant by that, and my friends couldn't get it either. He had been sincere throughout our relationship, never pushing me to do anything that I wasn't comfortable with. I thought that would last forever, I thought he would just wait for me to catch up at some point.

Clearly, he wasn't going to stick around for me forever. No one ever has.

My lack of luck is present in other things as well. My list of allergies is far too long, including peanuts and lactose intolerance, and the number of bones I've broken is embarrassing. Currently, I'm recovering from a broken ankle after I fell down the stairs outside my house on a rainy day.

I'll be fine in time for move-in day next week, but the struggle is real and brutal. At least my parents are helpful, but they're busy with work. My siblings all have resorted to bullying me for the past few weeks I've been down, all enjoying basic tasks like running and jumping that I wish I could safely do.

Soon.

 I'll have the boot off soon, and I'll be able to actively participate in my life like I used to. My two younger siblings won't be able to skip around me like they have been, and I'll be able to go hiking on that trip I've always desired to go on with my older brother.

And then, I'll be off to my university a few days after that. A five-hour journey in car with seemingly never-ending musical torture from my family. We always explore every single radio station, spending an awful amount of time on the children's tunes that my two younger sisters can never get enough of.

They've outgrown it at this point, but they're 9-year old twins, they're somehow always on the same wavelength when it comes to inflicting torture on me. They only ever listen to each other. Me and my brother, only four years older than me, used to always be on the same team.

I see him less ever since he moved out to his own place two years ago, off in Philadelphia two hours away from us, renting a studio apartment and living his best life, at least on social media. It was already tough when he had left for college across the country in perfect sunny California, but I never try to question why he's never wanted to live close by.

I suppose that would make me look like a hypocrite, considering my college's location being a long drive away and my own secret desires to start over in a new location.

I've always had this idea, since I was 13, that getting away will fix all of my problems.

It didn't happen when I left for college. Still the same old Irene, mistaken with the idea that she could ever be different. I'm always looking for something that I think doesn't even exist, something that can explain why I act in certain ways at certain times. Something that can explain why I get lost in high-stakes situations, and why I can't just do what I'm supposed to do.

I could have loved Dylan, I could have learned to. He just didn't give me time to do that. I have considered a few reasons as to why I couldn't feel anything for him, and they've all made me uncomfortable with myself. They challenge the idea of myself that I've always had. Like my homework assignments, I'll try to ignore them and think about them another time. Even if they're already due.

It's clear to me though, that as I start my third year in my final half of college, I need something to change.

I just need some luck.