Once I thought fairy tales were lies, or worse promises spoken, yet meant to be broken.
Intent is all.
Why do grown ups feel the need to make up a story, only to later confess that it was a lie?
Why look for a Prince when frogs are much more common?
Why reach for a dream when you're at ease within your nightmares?
Why scramble to disguise what your personal truth is when reality not only hurts less in the long run, but is more often the easier path?
