This a journal entry of mine that came up at lunch with my fellow bloggers, and I promised to post it. So here it is (Please keep in mind that I tend to dramatize things in my journal. It helps me get all the freakin emotions out, ha):
Why should I believe in fairytales? Why should I wait to find my prince, or to fall madly in love with someone? Why should I believe that I’m a princess? Why should I demand to be treated as such? Fairytales are what we believe when we’re young, when our daddy’s tell us that no one is good enough for us. But I can’t believe in a fairytale anymore. I won’t wait for mine to happen.
The reality is that hearts get broken, and even people who love you will hurt you. I don’t want to hold out for a fairytale because I don’t believe it will happen. I don’t live in fairytale. I don’t live in a castle where men bid and fight for me. I am not the princess. I am the girl waiting outside the castle for the men to stop trying to be princes – to stop trying to find their princesses. Maybe I’m not the most beautiful, or the smartest, or the most talented; maybe I don’t have the most or the best to offer, but at least I’m real. I’ll give what I have, but I just need what I have to be enough.
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