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Life is uncertain, never giving man a chance to assert his sense of certainty, leaving him at the utter mercy of the winds of fate, an even crueler mistress than that of life. What I mean is, I was almost positive that my father would be around until I had graduated from college or until I gave him a grandson or granddaughter, yet the Furies decided otherwise. Now, I feel as if I can trust no one, trust nothing or put any faith into a single hope, for I feel like at the first disturbance in the symbalance of the objectives for life, everything will be taken away that was held to be dear to me. It's like life wishes to ******** me up, never giving me a moments peace or tangable hope to cling to. She took my life, my father and my dreams away, and I feel as if there is no hope of regaining my former life. The blood and very life flows from the hands of the damned, and continues to leech the very existance I never had, nor could or ever stand for, when fate took my father away.