When I was a kid stories always started with “Once upon a time”. These stories were good. They had us believing we were all princesses that would be saved from a dragon guarded castle by a handsome prince and ride off into the sunset. They told us that we would go through hell before we could be happy but we would be happy as long as we were good. They told us of adventure and warned of betrayal. They taught us friendship and how to be worthy, noble people.
However they misinterpreted the heartache of it all. How you would feel like your soul was literally ripped out when you went through it all. They didn’t tell us the rewards would be small and how we would be damaged by the wars. They didn’t tell us that hell was purgatory and most not worth the journey. They didn’t tell us that the “adventure” was a trip full of misfortunes and our hearts would be too broken to enjoy our spoils.
They didn’t warn us of what love could do; of what love can be. They didn’t warn us of the people that we would lose on the way and that usually the soldiers become a casualty of the war; wounded by the hurt and deceit that bring the fighters in the battle. They told us to sharpen our swords but they never emphasised on the importance of our armour: never told us that we needed to shield ourselves just as much as we needed to thrust our weapons into the enemy.
But of all the deceit and the lies of this pathetic existence, want to know what hurt the most?
What hurt most of all, is that they didn’t warn us about the princes.
They told us they were charming and handsome. They told us that they would do anything to protect us. They told us that they would love us.
They didn’t tell us that they were all different and that some would get the rotten deal. They didn’t tell us that some princes were not as gallant as the ones they read to us were. They didn’t warn us that some princes were wicked and evil.
They didn’t warn us the princes were hell.
They didn’t warn us they were the dragons….
