Once upon a time, I dreamt of happy endings. I’ve learnt though, over the years, that life isn’t particularly fair and happiness isn’t handed on a platter and there’s no such thing as fairy god mothers. But somewhere, deep down, I still believe that dreams do come true. Then my fragile heart, weak from rebuilding itself after being shattered so many times, tugs at it’s strings and quietly murmurs, “please, don’t let me break again. I don’t have the strength to rebuild myself one more time”. So maybe that tiny part of me that still has faith in happily-ever-after needs to be extinguished.
Because I don’t believe in being loved back to life anymore.
