When I was a little girl, I had a dream of what it would be like when I grew up. It went like this:
Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl with a big heart. A knight in shining armor came and rescued her and protected her from all the bad things in the world. He bought her a pink dress, and built her a pink castle, and she became a princess. There was a meadow nearby, where pink bunny rabbits frolicked. It was a perfect fairy tale life, and she lived happily ever after.
My parents told me that my dreams wouldn’t come true. They told me not everything could be pink.
“There are no knights anymore,” Father said. “And even if there were, their armor wouldn’t be shining.”
“If you want a pink dress, you have to buy it yourself,” Mother said. “And pink is a bad color for a dress, because the color fades and it’s hard to get stains out.”
“There are no pink castles,” Father said. “And even if there were, they would be far too expensive for you to ever live in. You’ll be lucky if you end up in a decent house.”
“You will never be a princess.” Mother said.
“Not everything can be pink.” Father said. “Bunny rabbits aren’t pink, and they don’t stay bunny rabbits for long, and they turn grey and old, and then they die.”
“People don’t live happily ever after,” my parents said. “Life is a day-to-day struggle.”
“You’ll never be a princess, and you have no choice in the matter.”
“The real world is not like a fairy tale.”
Time passed, and I grew from a little girl to a young lady, but I never stopped believing. I never stopped hoping. I never stopped dreaming. Life would be so much nicer if I had a pink castle. I would be so much happier if I were a princess. The world would be so much cuter if bunny rabbits were pink.
I waited and waited for my knight in shining armour to come. Mother said I was too old to be rescued. Father said I was too big to be protected. They told me to grow up, to give up on my silly dreams, and get my head out of the clouds.