Fairytales are absolutely figments of little girls fragile imaginations.

Well, if that is true, then I never grew up. As a matter of fact, I am currently living in my very own fairytale. Don't be alarmed, mice don't sing around my apartment, and my voice is terrible so I can't beckon swarms of wild forest animals at a moment's notice, but I really did end up in a Fairytale. My story is not the Brothers Grimm version either, it is a story of love not lost because of circumstance but strengthened by time and trial. I ended up having the kind of love written about many years ago, a old, vintage, timeless kind of love. The kind Arthurian Legends are made of. Is he blond, perfect and riding on a stallion to work? Nope. Dark hair, sometimes a pain in my can, and he's terrified of horses. But, he sees me with morning eye boogers, sheet creases on my face and faded pj's yet tells me everyday that I'm beautiful. Now either he likes girls that look like gremlins in the morning or Love covers a multitude of sins. And yes I say sins because it is sometimes unholy how funky I look in the morning. All he says though is, "You're Beautiful". For a girl who had a rocky start in life, I sure feel like I am riding into the sunset.