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Broken Fairy Tale

I always believed in fairy tales. If growing up the child of a Disney generation taught me one thing, it was that my prince would eventually come. After many years of disappointment, failed attempts, hiding behind closed doors, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, I never thought my prince would come until I met you.

Against my better judgment I fell into your kind words, thoughtfulness, and persistence. You didn't show up in a white horse per se, although you did arrive at my front door in your white t-shirt looking strong, dashing, handsome, and protecting, much like a prince. You made me laugh and smile, and your kiss made me feel like I had been asleep for so long. Like Aurora, I had been awakened to a beautiful reality. While you were taking on the role of Prince Charming, making me feel like the most beautiful girl at the ball, that all the others didn't compare, and I thought to myself so this is love?

There were many sides to you, not one Disney Prince but all wrapped up into one. You gave me the sob story of Aladdin, telling me you were abandoned by your parents and had nothing to show, while trying to survive on your own. Your strength was much like John Smith, the fighter, becoming a Marine to help protect and serve your fellow brothers before heading out to battle. You had the singing voice of Prince Phillip, gazing at me while singing country lyrics — your way of telling me you loved me, because you couldn't find the words. Last but not least was the kind heart of Prince Eric; no matter my faults you loved me just as I was.

Like all fairy tales, there has to be a villain, one who wants to destroy what little happiness one may have. I never thought in my fairy tale it would be you. You started to show your arrogance like Gaston, and your temper like the Beast. At times I felt like Ariel, unable to speak, mute to the dangers of what lay below. Much like the Beast, when things did not go your way, you wound up wreaking havoc on everything and anything around you. Including me.

At times I felt like Cinderella, cleaning up your messes, making sure to keep a beautiful appearance on the outside, all the while knowing the cruelty that was taking place behind closed doors. Or feeling like Princess Jasmine, wanting to share my love for you, for all to hear, all the while knowing my parents and friends wouldn't understand. Nor would they accept you or your beastly behavior. Your nose grew ever so slightly like Pinocchio, when giving answers to my questions and concerns.

Little by little I could feel my fairy tale crumbling around me. Like Alice in Wonderland, I was thrown into a whirlwind of confusion, not knowing where I was or who I was with, a side effect of the chaos that came with loving you. At times you were like Peter Pan, never wanting to grow up, while taking my hand to never never land. Afraid of growing up, you wanted to stay like a boy, never wanting to take responsibility that came along with being a man. When I wasn't with you I never knew what was taking place in your kingdom. Quickly I learned that my fairy tale was over, knowing my prince was the villain in disguise. I was taught that princes fight for their true love, yet you left me to be eaten by the wolves much like Little Red Riding Hood.

I spent many months crying every night, locked in my room like Rapunzel. Hiding away like the Hunch Back of Notre Dame, never wanting to show my face for fear of ridicule, embarrassment, and that I had been made a fool. It didn't take me long to realize I had eaten the rotten apple of the Queen. It tasted of true evil, heartache, and heartbreak. In all fairy tales one person wants to take away what little happiness one has and I never imagined it would be you.

So now I lay asleep, waiting, hoping, and dreaming of true love's kiss to wake me into an enchanting reality of love, happiness, and devotion. In my fairy tale I've learned to wait. To wait for the Prince who will fight for me. Who will awake me to a life of protection from evil do-ers, whose kiss will be unlike any of the others, and to prove it was worth the long and lonely sleep.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Michaela Irwin copyright

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