I badly want to watch Enchanted. I’m seriously considering skipping the game tomorrow to go and watch it at Gateway. That is how badly I want to see that movie. And the game’s going to be a good one tomorrow and I badly want to skip it.
I’ve always been in love with fairytales and I’ve always believed that somewhere along the way, my own fairytale would come true.
But in between seven and nineteen years old, life happens.
And it makes you realize that your real life Prince Charming is nowhere near McDreamy (More McSteamy actually) and the job you’ve always dreamed of doesn’t exactly land you on People’s Most Beautiful list.
As you grow older you come to realize that things don’t just happen. Things don’t just come out with one wave of our fairy god mother’s magnificent wand and the world doesn’t stop to cry with you when things go shitty.
Neither does it turn a pumpkin into a beautiful coach nor does it turn mice to men (don’t you just wish for the opposite?). Reality knocks at your door and opens it without being invited. Things don’t happen as soon as we wish on a star.
Compared to our childhood dreams of happily ever afters, reality sucks. Compared to dances, fairies, the lost boys and Esmeralda, this world that we’re stuck with doesn’t even come close and it makes you wonder if watching so many fairytales when you’re young would lead to psychotic meltdowns when you’re older because you expect too much fairy dust and have lesser understanding of reality.
Maybe, it’s just me.
It was disappointing at first and having to take off your rose colored glasses for the first time leaves you feeling naked and vulnerable. It makes you feel scared and insecure. But after awhile, you’d realize that you have your own inner strength to depend on.
It would make you realize that even if life throws so many Cruela De Vils or Stepmonsters your way, you’d still be okay. You’d realize that it may have not been the fairy tale that you’ve dreamed of after watching Beauty and the Beast, but it’s still worth it.
Fairy dusts and wishes on the star are overrated anyway because I’ve come to realize that when you get something at a snap of a finger you wouldn’t appreciate it as much as when you’ve worked hard for it cried for it and fought hard to get it.
My story’s unique, it’s not easy and I don’t have a gallant fairy god mother or a knight to save me, but it’s okay.
I’m stitching my own tale and filling my life with characters that won’t even compare to those I’ve encountered in Disney movies and storybooks.
And I know, at the end of the day, I’d have better stories to tell my grandkids than all of the Cinderellas or Belles in the world.