It is hard to live in a world filled the princes and princesses, when half the time you feel like the most ugliest, poorest peasant that has ever existed.
I don’t know quite how to put it into words, but in this world, to me, there seems to be a line dividing people: those who sparkle, with hidden talents, which are revealed to the world, and those who don’t, and who live quiet, ordinary lives.
Most people, the ones who do not sparkle, are quite satisfied with their quiet, ordinary lives. They go to work, they go out with friends. They have fun, they go on holidays. Everything, in their lives, apart from the small setback here and there, is relatively smooth and predictable, and they are, if not happy, at least quite content.
Then there are the other kind. The kind who dream of sparkling, of shining as bright as their sun—or at least having their talent or work do so—but feel as though it is always out of reach, this ability to shine and glimmer. It is rather like the misery of a peasant, who yearns to be a prince or princess, but knows they can never be one.
I feel that way, sometimes. Perhaps it’s greedy of me, to want my books to be read by many people, for them to be published and adored; but it’s the truth, I do want that. I don’t want any fame for myself—just my books, my stories. But I think I’m going to be that princess that stays locked up in her tower, whose prince never comes. I’m sure that princess, if she ever exists, eventually, as she grows older, and wrinkled, becomes bitter, and revengeful, and twists her own fairytale into something dark and menacing.
I hope that never happens to me. I hope I never become sour and bitter, because my dreams never came true. Because my vision, of being a princess, instead of a peasant, never came to fruition. I would never want to be that kind of person. Never. The truth is, apart from getting my books published, I have hardly ever thought about what else I have wanted from life: money, maybe, or holidays, or anything else that other people yearn for, fame and fortune, a bedazzled life. None of those things have held any lustre for me. Only books, and writing, and getting my words out there, into the world. And now, I am afraid I shall have to be resigned to be a peasant, just like the millions all over the world whose dreams never came true.
Nobody ever told me this, that things would happen this way; all books and Disney films ever taught me was that, with enough hard work and determination, one can achieve whatever one wants. They should’ve told little boys and girls the harsh reality and truth: that sometimes dreams do not come true, the prince never comes, there is no rags and riches story, and, after a princess bites the poisoned apple, she dies, and is buried, underneath the ground, never to be heard from again.