You grow up and slowly you become realistic. You live in a city, not a kingdom. You aren’t royalty but you’ve done alright for yourself. Knights and princes are replaced by handsome faces across subway platforms that probably smiled at you. The magic starts to fade but you never lose all of the glitter. It glimmers each time a new number texts you “hey”, or right before a job interview. No matter how bitter you might get, that tiny shimmer still catches the light in your soul at every beginning. But you question its validity, the longer you wait.
He doesn’t come crashing into your tower on a noble steed because you wished on a well. You weren’t in a tower of any sort, anyway. He doesn’t make you weak in the knees at first glance. He’s a nine year friendship that finally clicks into place. He’s a sweatshirt when you’re cold in the same Starbucks you’ve wasted all your hours in. He crashes into the walls you built yourself, and your eyes well up when you wrap your arms around his neck because you can’t believe he’s real. You aren’t weak in the knees because he supports you; he helps you stand stronger. He doesn’t save your life from a dragon, but he helps you save yourself from your own fire breathing demons.
So you build your kingdom around your parents’ kitchen tables. Sweatpants feel just as jaw-dropping as ball gowns. And your happily ever after is the inexplicable comprehension that happily ever after is realistic after all, and it doesn’t need a perfect sunset to ride into.
He is proof that God believes in fairy tales too.
This has been, prose that pops into Sabina’s head randomly that she needs to write down and perfect. Thanks for reading!