When I was a little girl, I believed in fairytales. I believed in princes and princesses and knights in shining armor. I believed in forever and happily-ever-afters. I was ten when reality hit me. My mum brought the evil home with her and there was no escaping it. That's when I learnt that fairytales are just that: fairytales. The bad stuff is real, though. The difference is I now know that the monsters and evil villains don't always wear capes and ugly scars. No, most of the time, they appear normal.I'm drowning in reality, in my life, and I've given up hope that a knight in shining armor will rescue me. But maybe... maybe I don't need a Prince Charming after all. Maybe a knight without the shining armor and a broken smile will be enough to save me.
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