I’ve probably read to you a thousand kind of stories; told you the tales of a hundred different heroes and villains that took place in kingdoms and worlds that never existed. You probably know the story of The Boy Who Lived, The Girl On Fire, The Mother Of Dragons, The Little Girl Who Stopped The Big War, The Brightest Witch of Her Age, and Ardalan’s Assassin. I’ve told you so many stories of heroes with heels, dystopian worlds, schools filled with magic and wizards, maybe you have even read the stories I had the lucky chance to publish, but I never told you mine.

My real story.

My true story.

The one I always I had the hardest time writing, and the one that I never had complete control of because I shared the pen with someone else.

And I think it’s about time I did.

I’ll tell you the story of a girl who loved stories, but struggled to love herself.

I’ll tell you the tale of a girl who loved too much.

I’ll tell you the legend of a girl who didn’t want to grow up.

I’ll tell you the happy ending of a girl who made up her own.

Once upon a time, a 14-year-old girl wandered the shelves of a small library, and picked up a book that changed her world. It was titled “Prom Kings and Drama Queens,” and it was not filled with wizards or dragons, but it was about a girl named after a hurricanewho loved the wrong guy... at first. She was a reporter for her high school’s newspaper and she was in search for the story of the year, but little did she know, the words of her own story altered and beautified another’s.

I don’t think it will take you three guesses to know that the 14-year-old is me, but "Prom Kings and Drama Queens" was the first book that taught me how to love stories. I realized that a story didn’t have to be about boring detectives or history lessons, but about life, humor, teenagers and what it means to grow up in a world where society tells us who to be. The book made me cry tears of laughter and was the first thing I picked up right after I came home from school. Yet, I didn’t realize how much I loved the story until I had to stand in front of my entire 6th grade language arts class and give my report about it. At first, I had stage-fright and couldn’t stand the dozens of eyes staring at me, but I looked back at my report and fell into the story all over again. Telling them about a girl who was named after a hurricane, who fell in love with the wrong guy at first, took advice from an awesome grandma, who did cartwheels on her grandson’s lawn and loved Uncle Jesse from Full House. The story just spilled out of me, and I found comfort in the characters and became a hurricane of my own as I held on to the tether of the words that made me laugh, and changed my life. It was then that I realized that the almighty book bug had set its sights on me, and I still remember, while giving my book report in front of the class, from the corner of my eye, my Language Arts teacher had given me a knowing smile, and I think she knew I was bit by the book bug too.

Books became my great escape and I was able to free myself from the chains of my everyday reality. Whether it be in between classes, walking down the hall, or during recess, a book was always in my hand or in my backpack waiting to be picked out. I had a few friends in middle school, and more over time in high school. For a long while I had built up a wall of preservation, one as endless and as high as the wall in "Game Of Thrones." I hardly let anyone over it, but those who tried to climb it, I offered a hand. You probably call her auntie now, but my best friend was the one who didn’t just climb the wall, she broke it down. Our friendship started with late night phone calls about boys and crushes, but then it gradually altered to secrets we promised to keep, and stories we weren’t ready to tell anyone. One day, I hope she tells you the story of the brave girl she was, about how she kicked anyone’s butt if anyone looked at her best friend or brother the wrong way, or how she snuck out at night when her parents were asleep to help whenever I was in trouble. When you find a friend that you can trust and who accepts the beautiful person that I know you will grow into, it is the greatest treasure of a lifetime. Don’t ever let a boy, or a silly argument come between you, because in the end, the only ones who will be there at the end of the day were the ones who stayed in your darkest hours, and your best friend will be one of them.

Love is a treacherous ocean that I never really learned to swim in. Some boys have come and gone like fleeting dreams in the pages of my early chapters. Some lasted as long as a single page, and others lasted a whole novel. They were each a different story though, their own kind of hero. I met a sweet boy who needed to learn to save himself, another boy made of trouble and cigarette smoke, and the third one who designed a new character arc in me, but reeked of late night sheets and fake promises. They were either lessons or memories, but I cared for them all the same as I still flip through their chapters, and see them as experiences I learned from.

Love is not always kind and its currents are unpredictable, and I can’t promise you a safe passage through them. I will read you fairy tales every night before you go to bed about princes who saves princesses, but I need you to know that not all boys will be like them. I need you to know that not everything will be like a fairy tale, and life does not guarantee a happy ending. And as much as I hate to say it, not even you, sweetheart, are guaranteed such a dream.

However, I will promise you one thing, you are the creator of your own path, the writer of your story, and the hero of your own world. No one can control you, and no prince or king has jurisdiction over your heart or mind, they belong solely to you. Never let a man tell you what you are, or define your worth because the strongest love of all, is the one you have for yourself. Of course, I know any man will be lucky to love a girl like you, but I want you to learn to love yourself first. Don’t give away who you are until you know exactly who that is. I’ve seen many friends fall down that road where love started off as a drizzle, a shy shower, and ended in a destructive hurricane where everyone was hurt. I don’t want you to fall for someone who tries to shape you into their own image; into their own dream girl. The only thing a man is allowed to call you, with a ring around your finger, is his wife. Do not settle for a man that degrades you, disrespects you, or grabs you like you’re an object rather than a person. Do not settle for less than what you deserve.

Actually, never settle for anything in your life, choose it.

Seize it.

Write your own happy ending.

You see, the beginning of my character started off as a quiet girl who lived in a small town full of gossip, but now, a little closer to the end of my transformation, I’m a writer who keeps her cracked shell on a dusty shelf to remember the child who opened her first book about a girl who wanted to become a hurricane. I’m a storyteller in love with the magic words carry and the poetry that awakens me. I know my story is far from over, and I still have a couple of books to go before my series ends. I am still a work in progress, but I know when you grow up, you’ll be my work of art. You will be the greatest and most beautiful heroine I will ever create. I know life will write in a few trials and hardships along the way, and there will be days where you think I won’t understand, but I want you to know right now that I do. I want you to know that I’ve struggled through the same battles as you, suffered the same losses, cried over the same princes that never showed, and failed to win a game you never knew you were playing. There will always be a plot twist in our stories, some we can’t control, but know this, as your mother, as your best friend, as your partner in crime, I swear you won’t face your dragons alone. I know the world will seem like a villain you can’t defeat, that life can seem to lead down a sad ending, but I want you to know that your bad days will be just a small paragraph or a single page in the story of your life. You are made up of so many beautiful metaphors, similes, and worlds where days conquer nights.

You will be the best story ever written, and I can’t wait for the moment I get to turn that first page.

You may start off as my little princess, but I know you will grow into a fierce queen.

You may rebel against my rules.

You may call me a villain when I say you can’t go out past nine, or send you to your room.

But no matter what, you will always be my happy ending.

Forever and always,

Your Mother