Daniel Bird Daniel Bird
Recommendations: 47

" - There is always innocence, all of us begin that way, and sometimes you can hold on to it, even when it seems you have corrupted yourself, through the struggle of our, many times, filthy reality. - " There is certain wisdom here that far surpasses the mere words words it uses to convey the message. This is a very powerful and brutally honest line!

Leoni Carlson Leoni Carlson
Recommendations: 12

Yes, at first I was unsure if I should put it in, because I felt it was very harsh. But then I realized that reality is harsh, and what better way to show that then to contrast reality against fairytale?

Daniel Bird Daniel Bird
Recommendations: 47

" - Once I was Anne, and he was my Gilbert, since we started with conflict and ended with respect. Then I was the reserved Miss Elinor Dashwood, and Edward Ferrars swept me away with his quiet, but assuring affection. - " I appreciate the way you used these characters to illustrate your world, your sense of entanglement with love and its general depletion.

Leoni Carlson Leoni Carlson
Recommendations: 12

Thank you Daniel! Actually that's how I started writing this piece, trying to explain how my world seemed to replicate so many of these beautiful characters; that I so admired.

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Leoni Carlson Leoni Carlson
Recommendations: 12

The Coming of Zorro - or - She Walks Through The Fairytale


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This is definitely for all us girlie girls who, despite our protests, are really quite soggy at heart. To all you realists out there; excuse me for this one. I really felt like writing something silly and sentimental.


“Someday my prince will come...”


We’ve all heard that sweet refrain, and sighed at it’s innocence, but how many of us secretly found hope from hearing it, or sang it to ourselves, half believing in the promise?


There is always innocence, all of us begin that way, and sometimes you can hold on to it, even when it seems you have corrupted yourself, through the struggle of our, many times, filthy reality. 2 comments


I am unfortunately one of those hopeless dreamers; every act of my life I can’t help but interpret as part of some beautiful story. Some, beautiful, tragic story that is. I had many favourite tales growing up; most were the innocent and happily ending ones. I was also a sucker for sad stories; perhaps this foreshadowed my extremely dramatic nature, either way it molded me, and prepared me for what my life would entail.


As every story caught my interest, every new prince sent me tumbling into a void of expectation. I always put far too much hope into every chance I got, which always left me feeling much more deprived, and hurt, than what was ever necessary. I couldn’t help myself. Eventually; I stopped fighting my need for drama and dreams, and just gave my all, whether I got anything back in return, or not. Each time I felt I could relate to one of my heroines. Once I was Anne, and he was my Gilbert, since we started with conflict and ended with respect. Then I was the reserved Miss Elinor Dashwood, and Edward Ferrars swept me away with his quiet, but assuring affection. 2 comments


Soon I began to burn out, and the ardor with which I gave myself up to each passing fairy tale, withered away to a kind of numb feeling buried in the deepest part of myself. I went on, and for a while I truly believed that I was no longer capable of feeling. I was a drone. Deaf to the world around me.


One can only keep yourself lying in the dark for so long. And thank heavens, I soon scraped my way out of my sullen disposition. But I wasn’t right yet. I lived, knowing I could live life, not expecting or hoping.


I was in this state of mind when I met my Zorro. He wasn’t any kind of prince, maybe that was the difference I needed. He tried valiantly, to steal a way into my heart, and I coldly resisted, taunting him all the while. I had become cruel in my madness. Slowly he gained access to my treasured confidence; and through it all, I wrote his efforts off as insignificant. I constantly assured myself that fairy tale evidence meant nothing at all, though he remained my steady friend, through all my negativity.


Well, as I said in the beginning, I am one of those hopeless dreamers, this never changed. I only deceived myself well enough, to believe my own lie. In time my rusted heart strings began to pang of their own accord; and when tested, my Zorro proved true beyond my expectations, removing all the remaining doubts. I found, remarkably, that I could fall all over again, knowing the danger that may, or may not, have resulted from my doing so. I realized what an extremist I had been; and I finally found the balance when someone else threw themselves off a ledge, for me, and mercifully caught me.


Now as I walk with him down the street, I smile to myself gleefully as an old Zorro theme song plays tauntingly in the back of my head. I grip his hand the tighter. Who says we don’t, each of us, live the story of our own imagining?


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