This story will not take place at three in the morning in some skinny boy's room. The moon won't be falling through the window and I won't talk about the stars. Skinny boy won't have electric fingertips or raven hair. He won't leave in the morning and I will not use the words cry or bones or dark.

My lungs won't be charcoaled colored and I won't chain smoke cigarettes. My skin won't be pale and I promise, it will always be sunny and no one will ever sleep. Unless they want to, of course, because I won't use the word insomnia either. In fact, this story won't even talk about sleeping. Not at all.

I won't have nightmares painted behind my eyelids and hey, I might even smile. And I won't say it's fake or wicked or another adjective when it's just a smile and I'm just a girl and this is just a story. Nothing will be more than what it is and I won't use wordplay or line breaks or metaphors to make it more interesting.

My eyes won't be foggy or blurry or cloudy or bloodshot. They'll be gray and I swear, I won't compare them to storm clouds or concrete. I won't have sex with my abusive boyfriend or my best friend's boyfriend or my suicidal boyfriend. This story won't even be about sex.

No one will leave and no one will die and I'm so sorry if I just ruined everything. Wait, no one will be ruined or homeless or addicted to drugs, either. No one will have disappearing fathers or alcoholic mothers or missing sisters or dead brothers.

This is will be the worst story you will ever read. It won't have a plot and I'll promise you right now, that it won't make any sense. You'll switch point of views and I'll write words sdrawkcab. And oh, I hope you don't mind clichés because they're will be so many of them that your eyes will bleed.

You won't even make it to the end and that's okay because there isn't one. I'll stop mid sentence and you'll never