Theories and Concerns: Why are birds trying to kill me?

Fact #1: Birds hate me
Fact #2: I hate birds, but only because birds hate me

No, I'm not delusional, insane nor was I dropped on the head as an infant (although I did smash into the corner of a coffee table, resulting in a scar at the edge of my left eye), this is ~ srs business ~

When I was around 8, my parents and I used to live in downtown Toronto (I know, so hip for engineers) and after dinner, we would go for a walk around the Eaton center. This one day, I remember watching a pigeon fall from the roof of the tunnel that connected Eaton's to the Bay.

As a vapid little child with delusions of saving every creature in the world, I immediately ran towards the fallen creature (cue slow motion with dramatic music) and for a few seconds, watched helplessly as it struggled to retain its balance -- before a car smashed it into bloody pile of feathers within 5 inches of my face.

Oh.

Cue tears, crying, trauma, drama, blood on shoes (yes, the splatter went that far), more crying, etc etc. I basically made a huge fuss of it.

That night, when my mom manipulated coddled me to sleep, I told her through heaving sobs and leaking snot that I never wanted to see a bird ever again.

I'm sure my mother thought I would have gotten over it. Instead, 14 years later she still a 22-year-old kid who glares at pigeons and refuses to walk near them.

Ever since that Pigeon Incident, I've seen deceased birds at least thrice a week. Every time I see one, disgruntled irritation would diffuse my permanently neutral expression and I would feel annoyed at the lack of coolness of my wretched gift.

Why couldn't I have been blessed to see discarded pocket change on street corners? Instead of free coffee, I get to see a wide variety of avian creatures in varying stages of decay. I swear to god, if one passed away during winter and was buried under a sleet of snow, the universe would arrange it so that the sun would beam upon that one snow pile, causing it to melt and reveal the corpse just as I was walking by.

Then there are the bird attacks.

The balding and obese pigeon who lives in the Union Station that flies across my face on a daily basis

The seagull that won't leave me alone

The mass amount of bird followings I get despite the fact that I HAVE NO FOOD ON ME

My only justification is that in a previous life, I was a pterosaur and that birds (both deceased or alive) are attracted to my presence out of ancestry.