Here's a little story I wrote, I hope you like it. Please don't steal it, I tried really hard and I would never dream of stealing anyone else's work. Enjoy! And please tell me what you think of it :)
She crosses out the date, with the determination of a child counting down the days to her birthday. But she isn’t a child. She is 20; at the peak of life, the partying age, when long-term relationships don’t exist, and alcoholism is a hobby. But she doesn’t spend her free time with friends – to do that would require some. No, her days are spent in anticipation, but to what neither she nor anybody else knows. She just lives everyday wishing it were the next, and the next, and the next. Days turn into weeks, then months, and soon a year passes. And with every day gone, another date is slashed, almost violently, like she is trying to remove that day from her mind, her heart. But she can’t, it is engraved there, and shall remain there forever. So will the reminders of those days past, the strokes of her “pen”; the stains of the “ink”... the scars of her life. Constantly there, to taunt her, a tattoo of her failings and her waiting. Waiting for that date, the date when something great would happen. And it does. 365 more etchings, and a miracle occurs. When her pen hits her paper, the ink refuses to flow. No line is visible, no evidence of that day occurring, apart from her memories, which are so twisted, truth and dreams merge and distort. No evidence of her living that day exists...for good reason. She didn’t live that day. She won’t live another. Her razor blade drops to the floor, and she wishes frantically for the blood to flow, for the ink to show up. But it doesn’t. It never will. Her wish came true; the date arrived. Be careful what you wish for. She wasn’t.