Vicente

Sometimes dreams were deceiving and the difference between doing the right thing or spriraling down the wrong path boiled down to one thing—survival.
I grew up in extreme poverty.
A walking statistic.
An undocumented immigrant.
Life’s circumstances hardened me.
Reality crushed my notions that angels existed.
Until I saw her…
I wanted to hate her.
I wanted to hurt her.
I wanted to find my salvation in her.
I just…wanted her.
But she wasn’t mine.
She was my brother’s girl.