Member-only story
Beating your Own Monsters
For most of my life, despite growing up to be more of a feminist than I’ve ever dared imagined myself to be, I wanted to be a Princess. Don’t laugh but I wanted a knight in shining armor.
Don’t look at me that way. That was what all those TV shows and movies have shown me. MacGyver was my preferred knight, just saying.
My childhood dream was to be in love with someone strong enough to lift me and swing me over the back of a black, sturdy horse and ride off into a safe, secure place where I would be protected from everything ranging from powerful witch spells to barbaric enemy attacks.
Or at least know how to diffuse a bomb that I am strapped to with his bare hands and a can opener.
I’ve never found my knight in shining armor and I have an inkling I never will.
Because there’s none.
Piercing Reality Checks
As you can tell, fairy tales are not real. There’s no Princess Jasmine in her castle and Sleeping Beauty was probably someone’s really deep desire to be rescued from a climactic and life-changing situation.
They were all the reveries of dilettantes commissioned to help stir up emotions. I don’t blame them. The same goes for all those Enid Blytons.
