The Name That Wasn't Mine

It’s strange, sitting here and putting pieces of my life into words. Some of these memories are ones I’ve carried for years without speaking out loud. Others are moments I thought I’d forgotten, but they come rushing back when I least expect it—like the faint smell of a place you haven’t been in decades.

When I started writing The Name That Wasn’t Mine, I didn’t set out to make it polished or perfect. I set out to make it honest. That means telling the good and the bad, the love and the loss, the parts I’m proud of and the parts I wish had gone differently.

Some chapters have been hard to write because they bring me face-to-face with the boy I used to be—the one who felt invisible in his own home, the one who learned too early how to survive. But there are also chapters that remind me of the people who stepped in, the ones who showed me that family isn’t always about blood, and that belonging can grow in unexpected places.

This isn’t just my story—it’s for anyone who has ever had to fight for a sense of identity, or has wondered if they could truly rise above where they started.

I don’t know exactly how this book will land in the hearts of others, but I hope it offers a little light for someone else who’s still finding their way.

For now, I’ll keep writing—chapter by chapter, memory by memory—until the whole story is told.

— Daniel Reyes