A pessimist is one who feels bad when he feels good for fear he'll feel worse when he feels better.
-Anonymous

I dunno if I should tell ya my story or not. I mean, sometimes when ya talk about things that've happened, they come back to haunt ya. I really don't need any shit comin' back at me. But I guess long as ya remember it's your fault and ya take responsibility and help when it happens I can tell ya. Cause that's the condition.

Right from the very beginnin', I had shitty luck. Or maybe some weird karma that was payin' back my family or somethin', I dunno. But I was born almost three months early and almost died a lotta times cause of all the shit that goes with that. Had problems for years cause of it and was this scrawny kid that couldn't do much cause I didn't have the strength to do it. My folks wasn't no help, either. My dad was real disappointed that I wasn't big and strong like he wanted me to be, and didn't do much when kids picked on me cause he thought that sooner or later it'd make me into a real man. Yeah, at six and seven years old. That happened. My mom was real quiet mosta the time and didn't pay much attention. She'd found out she couldn't have no more kids cause she had some weird medical problem which is why I got born so early. She always wanted a little girl and I guess I wasn't good enough. Never have been, I guess.

Well, seemed like everytime I turned around, some shit was happenin'. Maybe it's cause I wasn't supposed to live so fate decided to fuck around with me to make up for it. I got beat up more times than I could count, and got behind in school cause of my health not bein' so great. So my grades wasn't the best. When I was eight, I ended up gettin' into a fight and it ended up with me fallin' back into the street and gettin' hit by a car. Almost died then, too. Fucked up one of my arms so bad that I had to go through surgery a shitloada times but it still didn't turn out right. It works mosta the time, but sometimes it fucks up on me and hurts real bad and I can't use it for awhile. I suppose maybe some of the people with healing magic might be able to fix it, but I can see that one goin' off on me and fuckin' it up more. So I guess I'll stick to the way it is.

Lots more shit kept happenin' to me as I went on, I just couldn't have no good luck at all. Came to expect shit to drop onto me, so I stopped bein' surprised when it did. Had three more accident type things before I was 13, one of which was a car accident that killed my mom. I lived, but again I had to spent time in the hospital. Got so's my dad got sure it was me, that everything bad that happened to us was my fault. So he blamed me for what happened to my mom. Hell, he was probably right about it, so I can't really blame him for it. He started jumpin' on me all the time about how I was nothin' but trouble and how he didn't even wanna look at me no more. And how next time I had some bad accident or somethin', he just wasn't gonna get me fixed. And that he didn't care what I did no more cause it'd all just backfire on him in the end and I'd probably kill him too. I figured he was right, so I left. Packed up my stuff one night not long after my mom died and left. That was in Baton Rouge and I ended up in New Orleans just a couple weeks after. Wasn't plannin' on stickin' around, but yeah... ya guessed it... shit hit the fan again. There's this gang called the Sparks, and for some reason they didn't appreciate me bein' on their turf. So when I was out at night tryin' to get from one place to another, they surrounded me and just started to beat the shit outta me. Guess I had my first run of good luck that night cause it happened to be near Araņa turf and there was some of 'em out and they decided to help me. There was a few of 'em and then there was a big fight, I don't remember much about it cause I wasn't all conscious. I just know that later on I woke up in one of the Araņa hideouts and they was takin' care of me. Said they was gonna call 911 on me but that I'd said somethin' about not wantin' 'em to do it. Don't remember it, but that's what happened.

Since then, I been with Las Araņas. It's been the best place I ever been and they been real good to me. Taught me how to fight and I even started gettin' some muscle. I'm kinda on the tall side, so that fits me more and now I can hold my own pretty good. Still ain't had the besta luck though. Had one more accident since I've been here when some freak thing happened and a propane tank blew. Wasn't too close, but enough to send me flyin' and into a wall. Hurt a lot, broke my bad arm then but then I got healed up again. Then the Strikers got into the city and started pullin' shit and who knows what's gonna happen next? Leave it to me to be black in a city where racists are the police force, right? But I'm gonna stick it out for now, least till the inevitable happens and I start bein' a liability again. Maybe I should get out before then, but for the first time ever, I feel like people want me around. For now, anyway.

The believer is happy; the doubter is wise.
-Hungarian Proverb

We are always paid for our suspicion by finding what we suspect.
-Henry David Thoreau