Why do I write serial killer novels, bleak sci-fi, and horror short stories?
Perhaps it was inevitable.
Some people see the glass as half full.
Some people see the glass as half empty.
I'm quite sure the glass is entirely empty, it's cracked, and there's Ebola virus around the rim.
Was I destined to write stories about cuddly little bunnies who have a happy day? Probably not ;-}