Story On Myself Novels & Stories

It was Francine. I gave a nod but tried to maintain a stern face. Alex ran to me and asked, "So are we riding an airplane? " "Yes we are little boy." I said smirking at him and messing up his hair. The sound of horns from the taxi signaled that we were all about to have a major change in our lives. I am Attorney Providence Dalton. Provi to my my closest friends.. Atty. Pro to my colleagues… This is my story.

They wanted blood. So I walked right through them, head high. One reporter shoved a mic in my face. “You said you chose yourself, Lena. What does that mean? That you’re done with love too?” I paused just long enough to meet his eyes. “It means I’m done being anyone’s story,” I said. “From now on, I will write my own.” Gasps followed, a few scattered claps even, but I didn’t look back. Outside, the night air hit me like freedom — cold, clean, endless.

And now, I was writing my own story. One where I wasn’t the victim locked in a room and discarded like a broken toy. One where I saw the room coming… And walked away before the door even shut.

What Inspired Me To Make This Story? Once I saw that so many celebrities and people in general were speaking out against sexual abuse, I want to dedicate a story to them. I didn't write to be like a savior or exploit the situation. I wanted to write this story, because I was sexually abused as a child. I won't go into the full details, because it's too disturbing and traumatic for me to share. But I wanted to give a voice to people who were too afraid to speak out. Also I didn't want to focus the story on myself, because that would have been selfish and not honorable to everyone else who experienced much worse.

] “This is my story. And in case you’re wondering — yes, I wanted my children. I wanted them more than I wanted breath. I left with nothing because I wanted them to have more.” “I didn’t ask to become a symbol. I just asked to be left alone to raise them in peace.” “But since that’s off the table — I’ll raise my voice instead.” James’s POV It hit 1.5 million views in three hours. She read from her real chapter. Then looked into the camera and said: “If you want to know who I am, don’t read what they made up. Watch what I’ve built.” And just like that… She took the story back.

“I’m just a physio who fell in love and got angry. I don’t want to be a lesson or a meme. I don’t want to be packaged.” He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “Then we won’t let them.” He pulled me closer, his chin resting on my head. “We’ll write our own story. Chapter by chapter. It won’t fit their narrative. It’ll be messy. It’ll be about building a foundation that works, and a life that’s ours. Not a fairy tale. A blueprint.” His words were a balm. But the universe, it seemed, wasn’t done testing the blueprint.

You all know I love having a mommy, or a daddy or anyone really, I’ll take a non-binary caregiver really, I don’t mind really. The story, most of my stories have a little bit of me in them, I write being inspired by friends and events in my life, this story, well you could guess who got me inspired this time, I started to write while drinking my coffee getting carried away with the story, I paid no attention to anything but my laptop, I’ll do few chapters tonight, maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll sell it later and make enough to buy a jacket.

She nodded and then turned to me and said, “then why don’t you incorporate both into what you wish to show us?” Adding both together? That wasn’t an impossible request, but it wasn’t something I had quite prepared for. Still, I had to impress them so I quickly thought up something on the top of my head. Taking the centre of the stage, I took a quiet but deep breath in, as I had learned to do many times during practice. Then, with a clear voice, I spoke out some lines, “if there is a story to be told, why should I not be the one to tell it? Do we all not have that choice to tell our own tales?”

For me it was a work of seconds all I had to do was to say and it was supposed to happen. I told you earlier, I'm the one who's responsible for everything and I'm the one who's lead in this story of paranormal timelines. Because I'm the Narrator, and whatever the hell I say is supposed to happen. It's nature, and I'm the creator of nature, I'm nature myself…?

The one that says I'm done playing defense. "We stop hiding. Stop being ashamed. Stop letting other people define our story." I grab my phone. Start typing. "We tell everyone. Everything. On our terms." "Aria, that's—" "Insane? Probably. But I'm tired of being controlled. By you. By Victoria. By the past. I'm taking back my narrative. And you're going to help me." I show him what I'm writing. A post. For I*******m. For the world.