The Compendium

Fairy Tale

"Love is like death, it must come to us all, but to each his own unique way and time, sometimes it will be avoided, but never can it be cheated, and never will it be forgotten."
                                                    - Jacob Grimm

I was a child when I first fell in love with fairytale stories. Of princesses and prince's dancing to a mesmerizing music under a magnificent chandelier in a pristine palace.

I watched it, I read it, I dreamt of it.

The fortunate fate of Cinderella marrying her own prince due to a glass shoe, Snow White and Aurora's true loves kiss, Ariel falling for a human being, or how Rapunzel's long hair found her a prince to love.

Love.

I believed one day, I'd get to find my own fairytale. Wear my own glass shoe, have my own true loves kiss, and brush my own long hair—get my own happy ending. I didn't know that life is the opposite of a fairy tale, then. That 'I' could become the hindrance to my own fairytale.

And boy, did it hurt like burnt flesh to realize the very fact of it.

The fact that prince's don't really define my dream fairytale nor is it confined to—heroines. How confusing?

Indeed.

Wearing a dress gives me heartburn. Skirts make me shiver. Make-ups itch my skin. Heels—never mind.

Just don't.

But on another woman's body, perfect. Men doesn't really turn my head anymore. It was—women.

Always women.

I started to learn about how odd it is and how—right it made me feel. I thought it was normal. Teenage years really make your head swirl. Thought other girls my age feel it too. How can't they? Women are exquisite.

They are a walking art, I could weep.

But when I look at my girl friends, their eyes shooting heart shapes whenever the heartthrob senior passes by or the leader of the school band winks at them—I can't help but tell myself. No. I am different.

Or at least, my preference.

College made me realize how real that sentence was. That 'different' means a lot of things on somebody else's perspective. Sometimes, it's the kind of 'different' that makes you want to hide. And sometimes, it's the kind of 'different' that makes you want to not be different anymore.

Be normal, for once.

Criticism not only from family but from friends who didn't understood. Judgment of what they do not understand. Discrimination of who they 'do not want' to get to know skin deep, bone deep, soul deep.

They will ask you to change your color to fit their color wheel.

Ouch.

It seemed like my kind of fairytale is their kind of nightmare.

Okay. I could do that.

Pretend.

But Brother Grimm was right.

'Sometimes love like this will be avoided, but never can it be cheated, and never will it be forgotten.'

It knocked me in the face while I was busy trying to right myself because people thought 'I' am on the 'left side' of the road.

I met her.

Her long hair might not be as long as Rapunzel, but it was as dark as Maleficent's eyeshadow. Her beauty might not be as deadly as Snow White's apple, but it's as mesmerizing as Ariel's ocean home. Her kindness is impeccable, her brain is as big as the universe, her smile as bright as the sun...

...and she's as straight as hell.

Damn.

I never thought I would fall for someone like her. A classmate, a friend, a dedicated Christian, a genius. A beauty nobody could resist. An unreachable dream, walking and waving at me.

Oh dear...I was doomed.

She talks to me, asks me for a favor, help, or answer and I can't help but say —

'yes'
'okay'
'alright'
'I'll do it'

Never mind the hell and the shards of glasses I would walk through to do all of them. I was—lost. Drowning in these strange feelings.

I was a lost cause.

How can I escape her tentacles? She doesn't even know it. And I didn't want her to know all of it for fear that she would retreat—away from me.

I avoided this kind of love knowing it was wrong. I tried to cheat but I always end up cringing about my poorly constructed excuses.

And I could never forget it...

... especially the heartbreak that came with it.

I met her 1st year of college, single.
We're going to part 4 years after
—and she's taken.

I watched her fall for her prince charming.
I watched her dance in a pristine gown, wearing the brightest smile.
I watched her love.

I watched myself break in front of the mirror.

Coward.

I wasn't brave to reveal my color. Could I be blamed? I was blue but I dyed my skin pink for fear of judgment. I wanted to be the prince—not the princess. I wanted a princess—but the princess wanted a prince.

Why am I not a prince?

I could have been that frog that turned into a prince after a kiss. Instead, I became the villain. She didn't even kissed me.

Idiot self.

Anastasia could have fallen for Cinderella.
The Queen could have fallen for Snow White.
Maleficent could have fallen for Sleeping Beauty.
The Dragon could have fallen for the princess.

But the heroine will always win.

"Love is like death..."

Brother Grimm, you are right. Again.

Because love hurts so much, I could die.

Damn it. #

© astaire_grey

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(Credits to the owner of the picture)