When I was a little girl with pigtails and no fear, you taught me that the world was the view outside my tower window. You told me I was a princess and that I could have anything on the horizon, I need only reach out and take it. With a warm laugh, you wrapped your arm around my shoulders and told me that one day I would find my Prince Charming, and that life would fall into place. You told me the key events but left out what it would take to get there.

You never told me that the devil looks like an angel or that he has a warm chest and heart beating beneath his worn Lynyrd Skynyrd tee shirt. You never told me he would trick me into placing my rosy pink heart into his big hands, trusting him to handle it with care, only to watch him drop it carelessly and sweep it beneath his bed with the other things he no longer cared about.

I often wonder why you never warned me that friends can break your heart as easily as a man can. You never told me that heartbreak isn't always in the form of a breakup or a fight — It can be as easy as your best friend deciding they no longer care to talk about your life.

You never informed me of how easy it is for someone to walk away. You told me of the sunshine but failed to tell me about the tornados. You told me about Prince Charming but you never mentioned the demons wearing masks pretending to be the prince. You told me I could do anything, but I never thought as a child that I would be given fewer opportunities than the boy who lived next door simply because of my gender.

I knew I'd have this world at my fingertips, but you never told me I'd have to fight every odd to reach it. You told me that I would always find my way back home but never what to do if nowhere feels like home or if "home" has two eyes and a heartbeat.

You told me the truth would set me free but never told me what to do if it didn't and if it left me to save myself.

You never said who I would be, but I made myself into someone you would be proud of.