I want the fairytale. I want second star to the right and straight on till morning. I want wishes on a star and a tale as old as time.
I want love.
We grow up in a world, where from a young age, we are told stories. Stories of magic and adventure; of good and evil; of curses and wishes. These stories become our reality, and we carry them with us into adulthood. But as we grow older, the stories start to fade, and the sparkly appeal of happy ever after is corroded by a world filled with heartache. Some women give up. But others hold onto the last bit of hope. The feeling in our hearts that maybe, just maybe, we will find our prince charming; that we will be loved.
So we endure the pain, we keep moving, and, when we fall, pick ourselves up, brush ourselves off, and keep looking for that one guy, in a sea of tinfoil and false hope, who will be our knight in shining armor.
I’ll keep waiting. It may take a thousand years, but I know some day, you will find me. And when you climb my tower to rescue me…
…I’ll rescue you right back.
