I felt like I was a spy hiding in the innermost closet of her mind, catching glimpses of her naked soul as she spilled her narrative across the white pages in my hands. The black words circled down my throat the way water swirls down a drain, falling easily until the clog came in the form of a lump in the back of my throat. The rawness of her words were enriching yet painful, vulnerable, yet empowering. I found myself simultaneously reaching for the box of Kleenex while wildly circling and underlining each line that captured my breath with my pen. Her story illustrates a pain I know well, a paralleling universe of grief and loss, heartbreak and self-doubt, to acceptance and love. This princess is her own heroine. Her book, a true story based on the good, the bad, and the ugly (in the reverse order). And her voice, a witness to her strength. For anyone looking for an authentic rawness, pick up at a bookstore nearest you.