There ain't no fairytales mister.. coz ain't nobody gonna work yer magic but yerself..

You see, once upon a time there was this girl. She did not realize she was in a nightmare because others thought she was a living nightmare herself. There are many days when she would try to think about her younger days but as the time went by, there was little she could recall or maybe, just more and more she did not want to remember.

Prince Charming didn’t turn out to be so charming after all. On the day she finally met the parents, she sat on the couch and it gave away. What she did not expect was, she herself and her “sorry ass” were “given away” as well. However, the very next day, she went back and kicked Prince Charming’s skinny ass and was happy to note that cringe whenever the scrawny little thing made contact with any surface, especially his white horse saddle.

It lasted for a week. Then he rode away, shining armour and all, and never looked back.

Sometimes she would try new things, anything to get some taste into her mouth. Some days it was alright. Some days she couldn’t taste anything at all. So she kept trying, counting on the probability that at least, she could count on the days where she almost felt like there was something sweet even if the bitterness would come back ten fold after.

She wanted so badly to apologize, for everywhere she went, she broke a chair, table, people’s patience and her own courage. She stepped into a car, the tires sank. She bought shoes; the soles wore off much too quickly. She tried on new clothes, and tried ever so hard to get them off midway. She told herself it was ok and kept her smile for everyone, and kept her doubts in silence because nobody liked a spoilsport and nobody liked an uptight girl.

Oh, the jokes were funny alright. Some made by herself, some by others. Laughing it off made it easier she found. But laughter, sometimes forced, was not easy to maintain. When everyone laughed, she did too. Maybe the ones that required her to laugh out loud till every building shook were the best of all. And when the tirades ended in front of the mirror each day, she stopped laughing.


She hated to cry because she considered it weak. But she soon found it her only alternative on some occasions. She wished she wasn’t an embarrassment, a liability, a disgrace, a grimace on the face, a look of disgust, some big joke. She wants to be worthy, someone to be proud of, and much more the reason to be able to love herself a little more.