Not Another Fairytale
Writing it down
makes it real.
It makes it more than just an idea,
a thought,
an emotion.
In trying to put it into words
it’s attached with meaning.
Your fingers turn into wands,
performing the spell of
transforming the
consciously kept unconscious
into consciousness.
There’s no wrapping it up,
no brushing it off,
no rug to sweep it under.
The plain truth is there,
right in front of you,
in black and white
or whatever colour you fancy your pen and paper in.
And it’s terrifying,
yet liberating.
It’s an act of bravery.
After all,
you’re facing your dearest friend,
yourself,
the one you’re trying to protect the most.
But deep down you know
you’ve got to hear these words,
even if they hurt,
because keeping them inside
hurts more.
It suffocates you from within,
feeds off your self-confidence,
until there’s nothing left,
only regrets.
That you hadn’t had the pep talk earlier,
that you stayed
and kept hoping for a happier ending
and held tight to the illusion.
But this is no fantastic romance,
there’s no fairy godmother,
no time traveling,
no potion to take.
All these lost endings,
these “not so happily ever after”s –
Where do they go?
Where are they hidden?
Is there a secret lost and found section
in the library of wrecked fairy tales
that stores all the closures
I’m seeking
but never seem to find.
And the mirror, mirror on the wall tells me
that I’ve changed.
And my skin feels different,
tighter, smoother.
And my soul feels like it’s drifting
through the pages
in the other fairly tale space.
It feels heavier,
but lighter,
now that I’ve written it all down.
The spell has worked its magic,
the truth lies plain in front of me.
So you my not so Charming Prince
keep walking down the road of premature ignorance
while I’ve got courage and grace enough
to face my demons.
I won’t be here
when you’re done pondering.
No won’t be waiting
for you to stop spinning.
My life depends on
nobody’s happiness
other than mine.
This is my choice.
This is my voice.
This is my mess.
And I’m going to put the pieces
back together,
just like I did before.
Put them in the right boxes,
store them on the highest shelf
where I can’t reach them
and they won’t bother me anymore.
Cause I wanted you to be brave
and I wanted to stop being afraid
of saying yes
and instead take a risk.
Cause what hurts is knowing
that I could have fallen for you.
I could have been the one
whose foot would have fit the glass slipper,
the one sitting in the high tower
or asleep for most of their life
waiting for true love’s kiss
to open their eyes.
What hurts is knowing
that you refused to be
my fairytale,
my happy ending
and instead became a ghost
when I don’t even like horror stories.
How could I fall for your castle out of clouds and hot smoke?
You took me down a slippery slope.
You didn’t let me in
only showed me what was plain to the eye.
Oh hey, it’s me, Mr Nice Guy.
Well nice guys can be bad boys too.
They just know how to act the way you want them to.
But once the cards are dealt
and the joker has bared his wide smile
your nice guy façade
is burning holes into the castle in the sky.
Now you can watch me from the side line
while I stride down Main Street,
take a spot in the waiting line
because someone else now sees
what I’ve known for so long
but been afraid to admit:
I’m Wonder Woman.
Not a fairy tale princess.
Disguised as a nerd in glasses
you’ve got to earn my trust
before I show you what’s behind my spectacles.
But once you know,
I promise,
you’ll never want to let me go.
-Maria
Maria was listening to “Promise” by Ben Howard while writing this piece.
