YWP: Saying What You’ve Always Wanted to Say

Age 17, Corinth
Monday, March 12, 2018

Young Writers Project is an independent nonprofit based in Burlington that engages middle and high school students from anywhere in the world to write, to express themselves with confidence and clarity, and to connect with authentic audiences. YWP publishes student writing in newspapers; through YWP’s website, youngwritersproject.org, and monthly digital magazine, The Voice; before live audiences; and with other media partners, including vtdigger.org and vpr.net. YWP is supported by this newspaper and foundations, businesses and individuals who recognize the power and value of writing.

This week’s prompt: Say. Say what you have always wanted to say to that one person, using no names.

I hate you, I love you

I hate you. I love you. I hate the way you walk, the chip on your shoulder. I love your long, sleek legs, and your soft, elegant feet. I hate your attitude, random and infuriating. I love your attitude, captivating and absorbent. I hate your love, deadly and unforgiving. I love your love, addicting and boundless. I hate your life, so busy and interrupted. I love your life, full of achievement and success. I hate your family, restrictive and overbearing. I love your family, accepting and loving. I hate your long, luscious black hair, annoying and hindering. I love your long, luscious black hair, ravishing and play-worthy. I hate your body, teasing and vexing. I love your body, stunning and pleasurable. I hate you. I love you.

I love us.

Read the complete story at youngwritersproject.org/node/21114.

The queen who fell from my grace

Dear You,

I’m mad at you.

I would scream it from the top of the mountain, if I was willing to hike to its peak like you always wanted me to. Instead I’ll settle for yelling at you in my head. And I have. Oh yes, I have. I’ve yelled and screamed, cried and screeched, and I do this all in my head because I’ll never be able to do it in person. I know yelling would do nothing — because I know you wouldn’t listen. You never have. In place of understanding you hand out backhanded apologies like candy on Halloween, expecting me to take them as quickly as an excited child looking into their full pillow sack of goodies. But I’m now done with your Halloweens. They aren’t fun, and I’m sick and tired of these idiotic spats, where in the end you come out feeling you’ve done nothing wrong. Maybe you misunderstood the thing that caused it, or you just said all those hurtful words in the heat of the moment and didn’t mean a single one. And yet, why do you repeat them every time you’re angry?

So, I’m done.

I see you’re doing well in your bubble of a world. In your mind you rule everything and are the perfect queen, who silently dares anyone to confront you with words or actions. I hope you enjoy it. Until you apologize to them (you know who I’m talking about), don’t talk to me. But don’t you dare try to ignore it, either.



Read the complete story at youngwritersproject.org/node/21149.

Big mouth

“Why are you so loud?”

“Why are you so big?”

“Why do you whine and shout?”

“Doesn’t it get old?”

“Shall I stop here?”

“Or shall I go on?”

“You are so noisy!”

“So weird! So dumb!”

“Every now and then you say something cool.”

“But yikes, remember that time you started to drool?”

“You flap too much.”

“And you squeak like a mouse!”

“But… that’s okay,”

I said to her mouth.

Read the complete story at youngwritersproject.org/node/20760.