They cast a mad love curse on me.
At first, I didn't even realize it. My days just became… wrong.
No matter what I did, every single moment was accompanied by failure.
I dropped things. I stumbled over nothing. My phone stopped working for no reason. I missed buses by mere seconds.
People ignored me, or worse—looked at me like I didn't belong.
And then came the sickness.
I fell ill, badly. Fever, chills, migraines that felt like drills inside my skull.
When I recovered, barely holding myself together, I got sick again. Every time. Without fail.
It was as if something wanted to break me—slowly, piece by piece.
But that wasn't even the worst part.
People began avoiding me altogether. Even old friends seemed hesitant to come near.
And around me… strange things began to happen. Lights flickering with no cause. Doors creaking open in empty rooms.
The air around me was always cold—unnaturally cold.
Wherever I went, these things followed.
I got desperate. I hired "experts"—mystics, shamans, fortune tellers.
They showed up with candles, muttered a few words, waved some herbs around, and took twenty dollars from me.
"Everything's normal, you don't need to worry."
They always said that. Every single one.
But it wasn't normal. I knew it wasn't.
Eventually, I called a close friend. Told him everything.
We sat down together, and began digging—into my life, into my past, into anything that could explain what was happening.
That's when things took a turn for the worse.
Far, far worse than I ever could've imagined.