You dream. Fairy tales. That's the stuff your dreams are made of. Of glass slippers, knights in shining armor, mermaids that sing, good that always triumphs, evil that always fails... of worlds over trees, and faces with moons, of naps that last a hundred years, and the one primary foundation of each and every one of these dreams, each and every one of these stories - true love that lasts forever.
We've been brought up, listening to damsels in distress being rescued by their Prince Charming, their knights in shining armor. Grown up, hearing stories of 'the one'. Spent our childhoods knowing that one day our Prince Charming will just miraculously happen upon us and rescue us from this frail, timid life that swirls by as a massive blur of pain, chores, suffering, homework, hard work, tears, loneliness, and all that is wrong with the world. We take our lives as an ordeal that must be lived through and just barely tolerated until the moment we find our golden knight who will sweep us off our feet and, on some sort of magical, flying contraption, of course, whisk us away to his castle in some magnificent palace set on a beach, with a yacht, and live the rest of our lives on exotic fruits, French delicacies, and lots and lots of love. And we drudge through all of life's despairs with that image in our heads, looming over our heads like mosquitoes in a hot, Indian summer, buzzing away constantly, sucking the blood out of us, slowly and slowly.
And it strikes you, on a lonely Wednesday. You sit on your couch, Johnny Cash singing "I will make you hurt" in the background, a 90s sitcom on tv, your blonde little puppy curled up at your feet, and a laptop in front of you. It strikes you, that perhaps, just perhaps, we've been doing it wrong all along. Maybe, just maybe, fairy tales are fairy tales for a reason. That perhaps we've been wasting our lives. No, not in a negative, suicidal "Oh my I will never be happy in my entire life" way, but in the "I should stop dreaming of fairy tales and live this life instead" way. You realise, you've been so absorbed with tomorrow's dreams, you forgot to live through the emotions of today.
And maybe that's what we've been doing so wrong. We are looking so hard for that perfection, and for a little blue bird to come sing in our ears, that we forget to notice all the potential knights around us. We forget to notice all the smiles, all the songs, all the dancing and happiness, and all the times that good triumphed over evil. That bunch of mosquitoes over our head is so busy brainwashing us and sucking all the reality out of us, that we forgot to live. Maybe if we had, we'd have realised we live in our own fairy tales. Perhaps not in a castle with a yacht. Maybe our Prince Charming doesn't have a perfectly chiseled nose and deep blue eyes to stare into. Maybe he doesn't write us poetry and slay dragons for us. Maybe we don't have long gowns of blue silk and matching glass slippers. But we have Beirut, and Johnny Cash, and Jinja Safari, and all that pretty music in the world. We have Pablo Neruda and Richard Sesnik to spin their beautiful words. We have our own blonde little puppies that like to lick our faces, and our own sitcoms and soap operas for the good to triumph over the evil.
And we have our Prince Charmings. They don't have perfect noses. Their eyes aren't passages into their souls. Their hair isn't smooth and silky and strong enough to lift horses. Their bodies aren't like Roman sculptures. They can't write poetry like Pablo Neruda, or sing like Eddie Vedder. They can't play football like Messi, or shoot a hoop like Michael Jordan. They might not take bullets for you or slay dragons.
But they can make you happy. And they make you smile. When you're sad, they will hug you and hold you and protect you from those fiery dragons of depression and sadness. They will make you laugh, and they will be Snow White's evil queen's mirror for you, because for them, you will always be the prettiest girl they know. They will save you, and they will protect you, even if from a lonely cockroach on your kitchen floor. And they will love you. They will love you like sunshine.
So wake up. Wake up and breathe. Wake up, and smile, and open your eyes. Breathe in the sunshine. Breathe in those wafts of fresh air coming in through your window.
Wake up, and live your fairy tale before it wafts away into broken dreams and oblivion.
We've been brought up, listening to damsels in distress being rescued by their Prince Charming, their knights in shining armor. Grown up, hearing stories of 'the one'. Spent our childhoods knowing that one day our Prince Charming will just miraculously happen upon us and rescue us from this frail, timid life that swirls by as a massive blur of pain, chores, suffering, homework, hard work, tears, loneliness, and all that is wrong with the world. We take our lives as an ordeal that must be lived through and just barely tolerated until the moment we find our golden knight who will sweep us off our feet and, on some sort of magical, flying contraption, of course, whisk us away to his castle in some magnificent palace set on a beach, with a yacht, and live the rest of our lives on exotic fruits, French delicacies, and lots and lots of love. And we drudge through all of life's despairs with that image in our heads, looming over our heads like mosquitoes in a hot, Indian summer, buzzing away constantly, sucking the blood out of us, slowly and slowly.
And it strikes you, on a lonely Wednesday. You sit on your couch, Johnny Cash singing "I will make you hurt" in the background, a 90s sitcom on tv, your blonde little puppy curled up at your feet, and a laptop in front of you. It strikes you, that perhaps, just perhaps, we've been doing it wrong all along. Maybe, just maybe, fairy tales are fairy tales for a reason. That perhaps we've been wasting our lives. No, not in a negative, suicidal "Oh my I will never be happy in my entire life" way, but in the "I should stop dreaming of fairy tales and live this life instead" way. You realise, you've been so absorbed with tomorrow's dreams, you forgot to live through the emotions of today.
And maybe that's what we've been doing so wrong. We are looking so hard for that perfection, and for a little blue bird to come sing in our ears, that we forget to notice all the potential knights around us. We forget to notice all the smiles, all the songs, all the dancing and happiness, and all the times that good triumphed over evil. That bunch of mosquitoes over our head is so busy brainwashing us and sucking all the reality out of us, that we forgot to live. Maybe if we had, we'd have realised we live in our own fairy tales. Perhaps not in a castle with a yacht. Maybe our Prince Charming doesn't have a perfectly chiseled nose and deep blue eyes to stare into. Maybe he doesn't write us poetry and slay dragons for us. Maybe we don't have long gowns of blue silk and matching glass slippers. But we have Beirut, and Johnny Cash, and Jinja Safari, and all that pretty music in the world. We have Pablo Neruda and Richard Sesnik to spin their beautiful words. We have our own blonde little puppies that like to lick our faces, and our own sitcoms and soap operas for the good to triumph over the evil.
And we have our Prince Charmings. They don't have perfect noses. Their eyes aren't passages into their souls. Their hair isn't smooth and silky and strong enough to lift horses. Their bodies aren't like Roman sculptures. They can't write poetry like Pablo Neruda, or sing like Eddie Vedder. They can't play football like Messi, or shoot a hoop like Michael Jordan. They might not take bullets for you or slay dragons.
But they can make you happy. And they make you smile. When you're sad, they will hug you and hold you and protect you from those fiery dragons of depression and sadness. They will make you laugh, and they will be Snow White's evil queen's mirror for you, because for them, you will always be the prettiest girl they know. They will save you, and they will protect you, even if from a lonely cockroach on your kitchen floor. And they will love you. They will love you like sunshine.
So wake up. Wake up and breathe. Wake up, and smile, and open your eyes. Breathe in the sunshine. Breathe in those wafts of fresh air coming in through your window.
Wake up, and live your fairy tale before it wafts away into broken dreams and oblivion.
This is beautiful and hilarious, all at the same time! And most importantly, it's true- I mean, I probably don't spend my time weaving in my head a TYPICAL fairy tale, but yes, have had a lot of stray reveries fabricated with nothing but perfection. But perfection isn't so pretty, and you seem to agree :)
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