If life could be a love story, would it still be as mundane or depressing? If we always got the prince charming, or the Cinderella, would we still have the need to dream? If everything was written out before us- page by page, we flip through full color illustrations of our life- would we still be able to find beauty in the little things? Would we still be able to love life? Would I be able to live with the generic, predictable plot, happily ever after, fairytale life that has become the American dream? Would we want to?
If living has taught me anything, it’s that a fairytale only highlights the good parts of the story. It doesn’t accentuate the negatives, in fear of wearing down all the bubbly feelings we receive from the warm world painted in story books. I have prepared myself to take the bad with the slightest hope that there may be some good hidden in the packaging.
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