I’m thirty-one today.
I didn’t celebrate though. Didn’t even go out. My father bought a chocolate sponge cake and I ate half of it. Then I slept all day.
Just like a normal day.
No mails, no signs, no news (good or bad) and it was a long undisturbed peace. I was actually waiting for a sign, something that will point out how will I spend my another year.
But it’s probably for the best.
Last year I had quite a rough year and it started with a bad sign. I hope to reign this year with goodness and plenty of luck. Like a bestselling book, like an accepted second manuscript, like another trip to Europe, like another try at tossing snow, like a view towards the Mediterranean sea, like walking in secluded neon green park while watching handsome boys playing rugby, like a charming, decent guy over lunchtime every Friday, like kind friends, like more books, like falling in love, like a pleasant, fulfilled dreams.
Man, I really do wish.