When Life Sucks Novels & Stories

Valerie p.o.v My life is ruined. “How is this real life?” “What's happening right now?” “I pinch myself to confirm that I'm not dreaming and the sharp pain that registers in my brain confirms that I am officially fucked.” “How did this day turn out to be the worst day of my life?” “Who did I offend that would wish me such luck?” “I am sure that I look a mess with how much I'm blinking but that's all that's stopping me from crying or laughing hysterically.”

APRIL In my next life, I’d either come as a monarch’s favorite tea cup, or not come at all. All because this life was started to feel far too gloomy and devastating to live through. If my first life was this tedious, why would I consent to another one? No bloody way. Aren’t you being a little too dramatic? came my subconscious’s snarky interruption.

The instant those words left my mouth, Xavier's face fell, and Tobias' expression turned cold. "Mom, must you say things like that to hurt us? Once we found out you only had one kidney, we didn't go through with the transplant, did we?" Xavier stepped forward, held my hand, and muttered, "Alright. Let's leave this in the past." But I simply yanked my hand away before slowly closing my eyes. "Who says it's over?" Keeping my voice steady, I enunciated each word deliberately, "Xavier Larson, ask yourself honestly. Did you let me live out of mercy, or did you just realize that taking my kidney would make you a murderer?"

“First, you ruin my job by getting us fired. Then you ruin my new home by living here. What else can you ruin in my life?” “It’s no picnic for me having you here either, you idiot,” she told him, narrowing her eyes at him. “I didn’t ask for someone who goes around accusing me of things I didn’t do, moving in here and making my life miserable. And, just so you know, it wasn’t my article that got you fired. It was that your drummer and bassist couldn’t keep it in their pants! Roger, the club’s owner, didn’t appreciate his patrons being hit on by them!”

Slowly, his laughter was laced with stifled sobs. I patted his head. "Hey now, no waterworks. I'm turning into an angel soon. I'll be getting wings and a halo! You should be throwing me a congratulatory party." His voice wavered, caught between a laugh and a sob. "What kind of angel goes through all this suffering..." "Doesn't matter. I wouldn't have it any other way." … [In the Next Life — April 12, 2024, 3:09 PM — I Wonder If Anyone Is Still Waiting For Me To Come Home For Dinner]

Bitter sigh! Why the hell I am I so unfortunate? Why is this shit called love so fucking unfair to me? Why does it seem like fate vowed to sentence me to misery? It seems like life has a vow to screw me until I lose my sanity! I was just getting to cloud nine, and my star was just about to shine, but now I have been ripped off my desperately anticipated glee. Life sucks! I snap to the driver poking her face at my door, yanking his hand away from my shoulder.

When they claimed it was all business, they truly meant it. A couple of weeks ago, I had lived a pretty normal life. And now, I was getting a glimpse of such a dark world. It was terrifying, but so intriguing too. I couldn’t help but be fascinated by it all. It made me feel alive in a whole different way. I wanted to know more. “Shit… that’s freaking awesome! I mean, it sucks for Cara, but still, it’s like we’re living in a movie!” I grinned in fascination.

"Though as entertaining this is, the affairs of the still living are none of my concern. You'll have to speak to my opposite; Life." "So how do I find Life?" I asked, and Death shrugged, twirling his scythe as if it were a baton. "No clue. I deal with matters of death." "...you're of no help, you know that?" "I've upheld my deal, so I think I've helped way more than necessary. I'm just glad I didn't go fishing for your soul. Otherwise, I would've declined." My jaw drops at his comment, and he shrugs, fading away.

I would've done everything to save him. Now? I felt nothing. Like I was watching someone else's life play out. Maybe he saw it on my face, because he didn't stop. He rolled up his sleeve. Ugly scars ran along his arm. I recognized them instantly. They spelled my name—[Yara.] "I admit I failed you," he said, voice cracking. "But after you left, I was hurting too. That empty house—every night—I couldn't stop thinking about you. Every time I missed you, I carved your name into my arm.

I stare at the screen. Then stare at the ceiling. Then stare at the screen again. And suddenly I start laughing. Actual laughter. The kind that comes when you’re exhausted and overwhelmed and one inconvenience away from a complete breakdown. One guy is checking on my feelings. The other is checking if I’ve eaten. What is my life? Who are these men? And why are they acting like this? I cover my face with one hand. “I want my boring life back.” But even as I say it, I know it’s not true.