A black cat is like a bad luck, some will say.
A scary luck can be more accurate.
In the most insane moments I feel I am an asshole because of the stress I am living and transfering to others.
I get almost surprised to still get good attention, great luck. In a masochistic way I want to say I don't deserve that, the free bed in the volunteering, some people caring from nowhere. But it still comes.
Alea jacta est. Maybe a warning. Hard to be grateful, but hard to spit to these lucky moments as well.
Life can be random. It is so easy to hate the world. And still. Hatred is not enough. Better things to do that hating.