Luck is a gift; a gift that Patrick does not possess. He had hope at one point, but now he’s fully convinced that he’s somehow cursed. Maybe it’s part of being a teenager, but he’s still not too sure. Everyone has some misfortunes at times, yes, but not typically a tragedy a day. While the tragedies aren’t absolutely horrible, they are enough to send Patrick into some form of an existential crisis, asking himself what he could’ve possibly done to receive such horrible luck.
 
          Now, Patrick does have good days, but they aren’t very common. It’s more likely that he’ll somehow drop an amp on the toes of his sneakers while trying to lug the band equipment back into the van after a show than it would be to find a stray ten-dollar bill in one of his pockets. It’s always the little things that count, he likes to tell himself. It’s a comforting statement at this point for him.

I woke to the sound of my furnace groaning as if its bones ached. I get up and go to the basement the cold floor seeping through my slippers. Sure enough the furnace was broken not giving off any of it’s warm comforting heat. I go upstairs shivering with every step, grab a blanket and wrap myself in its warmth as I call the furnace dude.  

I feed Ruckuss and the cats. Then go to make my coffee. As if not taking a nice warm shower wasn’t bad enough the coffee makers spits and sputters like my rickety old car I  had when I was a teenager.

“ Could this day get any worse?” I ask myself.

I get dressed and ready for my big meeting with the corporate director today. Of course on the worst day of my life. As I rush out of my freezing cold house to start my car I slip on the icy walkway and twist my ankle.

“Oh come on!!! Gosh that smarts. I have no time for this”.

It was a perfect summer evening. Stars were shining brightly and the moon light reflected off the lake's water. Emmaline was walking along the lake's shore deep in thought. Suddenly, a warm summer wind swept across the shore and shifted the sand revealing a slab of stone. She looked at it with curiosity wondering what it was. She pushed the sand to either side of the slab and saw a pink and gold stone box. She lifted the box out of the sand and placed it to the side. As she opened the box a faint glow appeared. Inside the box there were three orbs. One was topaz---the blue color reminded her of the ocean, the next one was amber---this one was like a golden drop of honey, and the last one was chrysoprase---the green color reminded her of when she was six and she lived in the country. She looked up and blinked a few times to see if she was hallucinating, but she wasn’t. As she was staring into the night sky she saw a shooting star cross her field of vision.

The alarm strikes obnoxiously at 4:45 a.m. 
I slam the top of it and it falls to the ground. 
I open my eyes to the sun shining through them. 
Clock reads; 8:56. AWESOME. Late. 
I sprint to the shower, now deprived of hot water.
Now fully awake and covered in frostbite, I grab my 
stuff, get dressed, and drive to school. 

The space between the gas needle and E
could not be a more accurate depiction of my 
patience left after this hour into the day. 
I arrive at school at 10:23, greeted with a nice yellow
paper reserving my time for 45 minutes after school. 
"Test tomorrow!" my math teacher projects as I open the door, 
and the bell rings and my whole class floods out. 

I get to lunch, and realize I forgot my lunch box on the 
counter. So I sit there, starved, uneducated, and a mess.