July seventeenth, broken leg. September fourth, trapped in a locker. October ninth, broken glasses. October thirtieth, hung from a flagpole by the underpants.
Every one of these was a bad day for me. But for others, countless strangers, these were all good days. Happy days. Weddings, births, first-dates, job offers, lottery wins – all sorts of occasions to smile.
I never had any of those. For me, a day my pillowcase wasn't soaked with tears was as good a day as I could expect to have. So what happened to my special dates? Hmmm? Where did my good times go? Every year, watching the fireworks, telling myself 'this will be my year'. I tried to believe it. I prayed for it to happen. But every calendar on my wall was another three hundred and sixty five thankful red crosses. Another night to be grateful it was all over, and hope the nightmares would be a relief again.
Well, no more. No longer will I rue the days I put behind me. From now on, nobody shall enjoy the day more than me. Forget the dates in your diary, my calendar is full. Every holiday will be a reason to grieve, every great event shall be overshadowed, everyday will be the worst day of your lives!