A Little Wooden Puppet

What makes a fairy tale a fairy tale? A little winged lady has never whispered a story into my ear, yet I’ve heard many fairy tales. It all seems to revolve around a single setup: tragedy followed by desire and true love or other happy endings. I’ve had my tragedy. I’ve had many tragedies. Where’s my fairytale? Where’s my prince or godmother? How many people go on believing that a Disney movie storyline could be their life, go on waiting for their prince? Maybe I’m just a wooden puppet, dreaming of being real, sitting on my little shelf, watching the puppet next door become a real boy. The worst part?Wooden puppets can’t cry.

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Even Perfection has Flaws

Maybe Disney had it all wrong. Maybe there is no true Prince Charming. My sister once told me love wasn’t about finding a perfect someone, it was finding someone whose flaws you could handle. I accepted that. Recently however, I came to realize how often your flaws are claimed to be accepted and then your prince tries to buff and paint over all the scratches he claimed to know and love. After this continuously happened I had to wonder, were my scratches THAT bad. Were my flaws so prominent that they could not be forgiven? He had flaws and they didn’t bother me. Maybe no one ever told him that no one is and no one will ever be perfect. I suppose one day he’ll learn. As these young men went to buffing and painting they lost their crown and it was given to someone else. Sometimes I was guilty of assuming I could live with flaws that I knew I could never accept. I broke a heart that way. It wasn’t a very serious flaw, he was just boring. I’ve yet to find my prince, maybe I’m looking too hard, but it doesn’t really matter. The little lesson my sister taught me soon came to apply to a lot of things, Happiness, for example. Being happy isn’t about making everything perfect. Being happy is about finding those disappointments we can live with and putting less energy into preventing them. It’s about chasing that one thing that makes the butterflies swirl around in your stomach and the little blue birds tweet melodiously and slightly cloying. After all, if there were no disappointments, happiness would have little value, the blissful moments would be ordinary and every guy would be a prince.