This is my favorite book. This is my favorite story. When I was in seventh grade I found this book at Barnes & Noble. I was a kid with no money so the five finger discount was the only way I knew I could have it. I took the small paperback into the bathroom and ripped off the bar code, thinking that was how the alarm went off. I made it through the store and had successfully stolen the book. Thus began this great life warping love affair with the words in-between the pages.

I read this book every time I needed to escape. Every time I felt like I had strolled too far away from who I was at my core. This book became a home for a girl who has always felt like an orphan. I read it probably every year, and for a kid with severe dyslexia, that was a lot.

When I met my abuser, he destroyed so many things I loved in my life. Including my stolen copy of this book. He ripped the pages up in-front of my face like Matilda’s dad did.

By the time I was able to replace the book a new edition/cover had replaced it. Devastation, but at least I had the book back. I felt like I had lost a piece of my history.

Fast forward, this past Wednesday this was left on my desk. “You should have a copy of the book you truly love in its original form.” Tears, raw face leakage. She will never understand how much this meant to me.

When I lost my original cover, I was in the loneliest time in my life. I have worked so extremely hard to have a family. Rage is my chosen family. She chose. She owes me nothing but she shows up and chooses me.

Thank you for that.