Am I crazy?

Everything I touch turns toxic. Everything I do is never right.
Every person who comes near me either changes… or leaves.
What’s wrong with me?

I’ve been fired from more jobs than I can count. I’ve lost friends, family, and relationships—each one more dangerous than the last. Eventually, I stopped trying. I was alone.

But there was a time when I was happy. A time when everything seemed to go right. When did it all go wrong?

One night, I was flicking through old photos, reminding myself of those better days. Friends who’d vanished without a trace. Faces I hadn’t seen in years. What would the girl I used to be think of me now?

If she knew what would happen to her… maybe it was better she didn’t. She would have been disappointed.

Then a photo slipped from the stack and fell to the floor. I picked it up and froze. It was me and my then-boyfriend, Ben. We hadn’t been together long—he was strange, intense—but the memory of our breakup came rushing back, sharper than it had in years.

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Now… I see it differently.

“Why? What can I do?” he’d called after me as I was walking out of his house and down the street.

“Look, it’s not you, Ben. I just… I don’t feel the same. It’s pointless.” I carried on walking, not looking behind me.

“But I love you. I wanted a family.” I stopped in my tracks. I turned to face him. He was really starting to annoy me — I didn’t want him, why couldn’t he understand that?

“For God’s sake, we’re eighteen. We’ve been together three months. Get a grip.” I turned to walk away again.

That’s when he shouted it.

“I have gypsy blood. I bet you didn’t realise. I naturally curse anyone who hurts me… and I curse you.”

At the time, I turned my head as I carried on walking. I couldn’t help but laugh. What a load of shit, I thought.

But now… I’m not laughing.

Everything wrong in my life traces back to that moment. It wasn’t me. It was him. He cursed me. I know it.

Anger bubbled up as I turned to my computer, searching for cures, spells—anything to lift this off me. Maybe even a way to get revenge. How dare he do this? Yes, I ended things… but I didn’t deserve a lifetime of bad luck.

Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m just looking for an excuse.

Maybe I really am crazy.

For years, I truly believed I was cursed.
I had so many failed relationships. I lost and left countless jobs because of bullying. I never seemed to be liked, and everywhere I went, I was told I was useless or set up to fail. After each failed relationship, the belief grew stronger: I must be cursed.
And maybe it didn’t help that someone once told me he could curse me because he had gypsy blood. At the time, I believed him. It messed with my head far more than I realised. But now I know he didn’t curse me. I only thought he had—and that belief became its own prison. I stopped believing in myself. I let the negativity in. I let other people’s opinions shape who I thought I was. I’m still moving forward.
Writing has become part of that journey—a way to heal, to take back control of my own story.

© 2025 Louise C Kay. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce without permission.