Some pictures I saved in my email when I was 14
Why do children love fairy tales so much?
When I was young, I read all fairy tale novels where dragons guard gates of kingdoms. I was fascinated by that Prince Charming who defended the honor of his Princess. When I was twelve, I dreamed of being a princess riding in an archetypal carriage. When I was thirteen I believe that I am a reincarnation of some sort of Kate Middleton. When I was fourteen, I loved The Cinderella Story and believed in happy endings. When I was fifteen I loved Princess Diaries and thought that maybe I have a secret royal family out there. Sometime, I dreamed of capacious avant-garde gowns and ostentatious balls and social gatherings.
Is there really a world like a fairytale? A perfect place of peace, harmony and enduring love? Where it all begun once upon a time and ended happily ever after?
Perhaps, because of my nightmarish childhood, I increased to find something that could help us escape the fiasco brought by the sore reality. The real world is full of fright and adversity and unending frustrations that I found it somehow bracing to be immersed in a world of total reverse as of our own.
I think, though it is insane, that Fairy tales eventually became my reality -- for mine was a world in which good and evil were not abstract concepts, and like fairy-tale heroines, no magic would save me unless I had the wit and heart and courage to use it widely.
I think we all started I once upon a time. We all have our story.
When the world did lose its magic? I often ask this. No one can answer me.
When we were younger we dream of impossible things and are contented. As we grow older, we realize those dreams are outlandish and laugh to ourselves. We terminate those illusions and try to exist in the real world.
When I look at older people, I am fascinated. I look at them and imagine what could have been their childhood that brought them to what they are now. Are they the type who wails or cries hysterically? Or are they the silent-like-me type? Did they break their grandmother’s spectacles? Did they flood the bathroom floor? Did they ever peed on their comforters or beds?
I can somehow understand and relate to people when we look at them. No matter how old or notable they’ve become…they were once children too, like us. They believed in fairytales. Older people are children who matured and grew taller…who experienced a lot and realized a lot.
Older people may laugh less, cry less, and play no more. But I believe that beneath that costume and disguise he tries to impress is a child he was always is. A child who needs simple things, whose daily life is still best described by fairy tales…
Our world is a fairytale, or perhaps, MY world. My world is a place of peace, harmony and enduring love. I know, all of us has this kind of world…we just have to take a look inside ourselves and discover it.
When I was young, I read all fairy tale novels where dragons guard gates of kingdoms. I was fascinated by that Prince Charming who defended the honor of his Princess. When I was twelve, I dreamed of being a princess riding in an archetypal carriage. When I was thirteen I believe that I am a reincarnation of some sort of Kate Middleton. When I was fourteen, I loved The Cinderella Story and believed in happy endings. When I was fifteen I loved Princess Diaries and thought that maybe I have a secret royal family out there. Sometime, I dreamed of capacious avant-garde gowns and ostentatious balls and social gatherings.
Is there really a world like a fairytale? A perfect place of peace, harmony and enduring love? Where it all begun once upon a time and ended happily ever after?
Perhaps, because of my nightmarish childhood, I increased to find something that could help us escape the fiasco brought by the sore reality. The real world is full of fright and adversity and unending frustrations that I found it somehow bracing to be immersed in a world of total reverse as of our own.
I think, though it is insane, that Fairy tales eventually became my reality -- for mine was a world in which good and evil were not abstract concepts, and like fairy-tale heroines, no magic would save me unless I had the wit and heart and courage to use it widely.
I think we all started I once upon a time. We all have our story.
When the world did lose its magic? I often ask this. No one can answer me.
When we were younger we dream of impossible things and are contented. As we grow older, we realize those dreams are outlandish and laugh to ourselves. We terminate those illusions and try to exist in the real world.
When I look at older people, I am fascinated. I look at them and imagine what could have been their childhood that brought them to what they are now. Are they the type who wails or cries hysterically? Or are they the silent-like-me type? Did they break their grandmother’s spectacles? Did they flood the bathroom floor? Did they ever peed on their comforters or beds?
I can somehow understand and relate to people when we look at them. No matter how old or notable they’ve become…they were once children too, like us. They believed in fairytales. Older people are children who matured and grew taller…who experienced a lot and realized a lot.
Older people may laugh less, cry less, and play no more. But I believe that beneath that costume and disguise he tries to impress is a child he was always is. A child who needs simple things, whose daily life is still best described by fairy tales…
Our world is a fairytale, or perhaps, MY world. My world is a place of peace, harmony and enduring love. I know, all of us has this kind of world…we just have to take a look inside ourselves and discover it.
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