Fuck fairy tales.
I realised that I was dreaming you’d be my Prince - someone I could forever call Charming - who would whisk me away at the sight of danger. But that’s not you. And I’m not a Princess that needs saving.
I’m me - a 21 year old woman who strives for independence, perfection, love, and peace. I take care of myself. I don’t need a man who is going to climb my hair or wake me with true loves kiss. I don’t need anyone who is going to treat me like I’m a woman in the 1800’s who is only good for child bearing and keeping the house.
I want someone who realises when I’m in danger of myself - someone who recognises when I need help but knows I won’t ask for it - and stands beside me as I fight off my demons. They must be there, not out of a need to protect me, but as a need to understand me, respect me, and love me. The must be willing to fight with me, not for me. There as a supporter, not a saviour.
So my dreams were wrong. You’re no Charming. You’re not even close. But that makes me happy. That keeps things interesting. I don’t want a perfect human to love, I want one who has his own demons to ward off. A human who prioritises his life with me not seated in the first chair.
Fuck Prince Charming. Be Human. Be real.
(But it’d be nice if you could whisk me off my feet every once in awhile.)