What a crazy love-tale of self pity

The universe does not love me.  This is the last time I will say those words.  But I will revel in the pity story one more time.  The universe does not love me.  It does not want me to be happy.  It does not want me to find a place to deposit my load, to give all this love to.  It denies me the continuous awakening to the wonder of it all.  It only dots my existence with crumbs of magic and miracles, very small ones, too small to be trusted.  But it certainly does not skimp on its fair share of obstacles and tragedies and heavy loads to carry.  

The universe if angry with me.  It wishes to punish me.  To gift me a hell on this earth.  It wishes for my every step to be filled with sorrow.  It wishes for my home to return to be the grief filled home.  The universe decided to make everything possible for me to be sure that I am broken, that I am the unlucky one, that I have not, and will never be, blessed with the things so accessible to everyone else, so desired by me.

I have won the doom lottery.  The one in an 8 billion.  Me, the unfavoured, the forgotten, the abandoned child of God.  

I still do not know what it is all for.  I still wonder at my ability to continue moving, continue waking every day, taking care of my children, feeding myself.  I still am baffled by my stubbornness to continue walking on this earth, what with no hope and all.  

The universe does not love me.  And, someone told me today, it loves me so dearly that it is willing to meet me where I am at and give me exactly that which I want and need, which is the proof that the Universe does not love me.  What a shitty deal. What a wondrous, crazy kind of love.  

The love I want from the universe, the one I keep living for, is the one where all that I think and feel turns out to be completely false.  Where I wake up one day and laugh at my silliness for having thought that I had been forgotten.  Where I wake up in gratitude and awe and wonder of how beautifully things turned out for me, how many blessings came my way, how all my pain was for something grand and sacred and magical.

Yet that never comes.  Apparently, because the universe loves me so much it will mirror my deepest beliefs about life and love and living.  What a shitty deal.  What a crazy love.