acknowledgments . . .

BERNA DA’COSTA

I believe that life creates a writer. My life, the people around me, the things I’ve loved, the places I’ve been to, the happy days, the crappy days, have turned me into the type of writer I am. It’s given me my style, my voice.

for a book i will probably never write

p.s. (in the beginning because i never follow the rules when it comes to writing anyway) this is going to be long because i have a lot of people to give my love to. BUT BUT BUT if you’re just a reader and not someone who expects themselves to be included in my acknowledgments, just read the first few sentences. if you’ve already flipped past this page and closed the book . . . you’re not going to see this anyway . . . . . . . . . . . sooo . . . . . . . . . . . . this is awkward for me.

to the reader, thank you thank you thank you in every language of the world for picking up my book and actually finishing it. if you loved it, you get a free puppy (not really). if you didn’t, i’m not going to say thank you for pushing yourself through, i’m going to say sorry.

to my mother, you will always be the first person i thank for any success in my life, and this book is probably also dedicated to you even though you might never read it. that’s okay. thank you for your patience—it is the strongest thing in the world. for your kindness, for always loving me (because i make it so hard sometimes). you have always believed in the best of me. i’ve hurt you, and no mother should be hurt, especially you. i’ve screamed and yelled and fought with you and it breaks me a little how easily you hug me after everything. thank you for reminding me to cry. you have shown me the greatness of a mother’s love, the invincibility of it. i’m growing up and slowly realizing you are the world growing from underneath my feet. thank you for staying awake with me until i finished my homework. thank you for the lemon tea, for the papaya. i love you.

to my publisher, for releasing this monster out of its cage. i’ve spent a majority of my life with this story in my head, and maybe i should say that this story is for the readers, for every lovely person who is willing to turn pages and bury their nose in new books (i hope my book smells good). but it’s not. this is for me. i have written every word with the most selfish intentions because i needed to let this story go.

to my editing team, thank you for whipping my manuscript into readable and publishable shape. i am the biggest disgrace to grammar. sorry for all the commas (i know i use too many of them), sorry for all the run-on sentences (unfortunately i can’t bother with proper punctuation), sorry for never knowing how to use one of these “-” or one of these “–” or one of these “;” or one of . . . well you get the point.

to production, thank you for designing the cover of this book. you’ve added to the beauty of (i hope) many bookshelves.

to my father, thank you for teaching me how to use my words carefully. you’re the reason i write.

to my sister, thank you for showing me that i am capable of loving someone too much. thank you for being everything i’m not. thank you for your heart and the space you let me reserve in it. thank you for being the stronger one. i want to give you every sunrise, every sunset, every rainy day. you are stars and moons, an explosion of light every morning. my little moju, always finding you on the other side of the bed, waking up with limbs and jungle hair, i can’t leave you alone. keep on drawing. uwu.

to the community, thank you for giving me memories, for making me laugh harder than i do with anyone else, for making me feel like something more is possible, for the weirdness, the craziness, the insanity of us together in a room dreaming like fools. we need more paper plates.

to the stars,

to the moon,

to the rain,

i will never stop writing about you.

to goa, the only place that feels like coming home.

to all the books that let me wander around in their world for a while.

to all the songs that melted my heart.

to all the poets,

to all the authors,

to all the writers,

who found the words that i couldn’t, arranged them into a tangible thought, gave me that moment of yes,

god yes,

this is what i meant.

to words, i love them so much.

to the moments of silence, i appreciate them.

to every person who understood me, thank you, give them an award please.

to every person who told me to write, write, write, you are wonderful human beings who believe in the magic of this world, in extraordinary things, like me using a semicolon correctly.

to me, you wrote a BOOK!

(this book will never exist.)