Before you read this piece, I'd been like to say it's been 14 years since my parents separated. I'm not looking for sympathy, or a pat on the back. It's been awhile since I've written, and so my writing is most definitely rusty. However, I finally got around to writing something, whether it's good or bad, I'm happy I was able to finally pour out words I had been meaning to get off my chest for the longest time.
Entirely based on my own opinion, I feel that humans were meant to be created to grow up, learn to love, and then die. We were supposed to be happy, and sometimes sad. We were supposed to be stuck-up, and sometimes jealous. We were supposed to fall in love, and sometimes fight with whom we love the most, but in the end it was supposed to work out perfect. Kind of like those fairy-tales that I so vividly remember reading as a child. I don’t know what went wrong with my parents. They were happy, they were sad, they were stuck-up, they were jealous, they fell in love, and they fought – a lot. But one thing was missing. They never got their perfect, fairy-tale ending.
It’s like a page was missing from my parents’ fairy-tale –like someone ripped out the best part of the fairy-tale, the happy ending. I don’t know where I fit into the puzzle. I don’t know if I’m the protagonist or the antagonist. When you’re parents separate, they always feel the need to repeatedly say the same four words – it’s not your fault. As much as I’d like to believe in those four words, I can’t. They’re living a lie by saying that to themselves, and now they’re trying to make my live with that lie too.
I guess there was a flaw in my parents’ fairy-tale – me.
Looking back, I’ve realized a few things. Life doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to. You’ll grow up, you may fall in love, and you will die. But somewhere along the line, you’ll fall a lot. You’ll make mistakes, fall out of love, and find it immensely difficult to be happy.
Most original “fairy”-tales were made to be gruesome, depressing, and have an ending that was realistic. Throughout the years, authors sugar-coated them without a second though, so that kids like me would spend years of their life believing a lie.
I was that person who ripped out the page in my parents’ fairy-tales. I think we should give the bad-guy in these fairy-tales a break. Who knows, maybe they’re like me, born to destroy. Sometimes we can’t help it.
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