YALLWEST Writing Competition 2018

That was my story, but I wanted a different one.

Her father lives in another state. Her mother abuses her.

“That was my story, but I wanted a different one,” she told me.

His family abandons him because he’s gay. Homeless, he wanders the streets.

“That was my story, but I wanted a different one,” he told me.

Anonymous accounts send her hateful messages. Fat, ugly, ****.

“That was my story, but I wanted a different one,” she said.

Cancer eats away at his body. He slowly dies in a hospital bed.

“That was my story, but I wanted a different one,” he said.

Maybe that’s why we read.

Not because we’re bored.

Not because we don’t have friends.

Not because we’re weird, or nerds, or just born like that.

Maybe we read because that was my story, but I wanted a different one.