I still believe in the fantasy of love. Fairy tales, white knights, the works. I want someone to pick up my broken pieces and make me whole again. But, reality tells me that my prince will never come. Fairy tales are not real.
I am the one who will mend my splintered soul with time and perhaps a little starlight (and probably a few glasses of wine). Learning to love myself is going to be my greatest love story. But, will this ease the constant feeling of wanting and waiting?
I want someone to see me, to respect me, to challenge me to be my best. See, the modern Prince Charming is not looking for a damsel in distress to kiss and magically make everything better. This prince accepts that everyone is always growing and learning. He is supportive and accepting of his princess’s current state of distress and he proudly stands by her side while she slays her own dragons. (Ok. He would help if the situation warranted. You get the metaphor)
I won’t stop believing that somewhere out there there is someone who can accept the challenge of loving me, and love me wholly. Somewhere, under the same moon and stars as I, he exists. The question remains: Where the hell is he? Until then, I will be appreciative of this time I’ve been given to pick up my pieces, examine them, and decide which ones stay and which ones go. It’s all part of my modern fairy tale.