Well I started writing this story for a contest, I have 2 months to complete it. So far I have 6 paragraphs. Although I need to go over most of them so I'll only be posting 2 of them. Well Comment&& Critique.

Final Mistake

We are constantly told to learn from our mistakes. To take past experiences and use them to our advantage in the future. And for the most part this is true. But, what if the mistake you made happens to teach you to hate? What if it turns out the mistake could have possibly ruined yours, and several other's, lives? Is that a mistake that can be learned from? Probably. But there's another part to it. What if... What if during the time of that mistake, what if that was possibly the happiest time of your life? Is it even possible to try not to, no, to not want to repeat it? Well these are questions I myself can't answer, questions I might not want to answer. What I will give you is a story, a story that is the cause of this confusion, of this stupidity.

Any time I think about the mistake there is always one date that sticks out in my mind. January 7th 1994. I was 14 at the time, and in all reality, that day has absolutely no relevance to the actual story that takes place 13 years later. But on that day, my best friend's birthday, I discovered what it meant to fear. To truly fear something. For on that day I died. I know that's something not usually said, but I literally died that day. Although I was gone for only 2 minutes, it's not something you can easily forget. The true fear behind it wasn't death, I hadn't coped with the fact that I was dying when it happened. The fear was that I might not be able to tell my friend, that... that I was madly in love with her. The fear of losing her. Losing her to life. Losing her to another.