Most of the moments in your life are inconsequential. It’s hard to hear, I know.

All the little details we obsess over—choosing to have coffee or tea, wearing a red shirt or a purple one, springing for extra guacamole— none of it matters. Sure, while you’re living it, everything feels important. We want to believe that each moment holds value, because then it means our life, our existence has value— but I won’t remember which choice I made a week from now, and neither will you.

But some split second decisions can change the whole trajectory of one’s life. And for everyone I’m around, that moment was the second they met me.


On Friday the 13th, I lost someone dear to me.

Exactly one year later, it happened again.

Over five years, I attended five funerals until everyone I loved was dead.

Now, I need to figure out who or what is doing this before I become the final victim.