As in dream,

I wake up lost. Am I still asleep?
I’m unsure of what to do next.
When one of your favorite habits or vices is aggressively discontinued you feel the loss tenfold. Your body grows accustomed to the touch, the breath, the action as if it was a part of you and defined you completely.

I awake. (Or do I fall asleep?)
I am doing so much for myself; I am swimming against the current. I give it my all and I’m paranoid that the new substitutes for that absent part of me will not be enough to satisfy momentary lapses of reason and melodramatic emotions.
I wait for the momentary high to dissipate because I’ve learnt my lesson – good things don’t last.
As in all things you have to maintain the results. Each day should feel like it’s your last, well simply because it is.
What you’ve gained yesterday by sheer luck will slip through your fingers if you don’t grip it hard enough – that’s just how life works.
You can’t afford to sleep or eat when you’re out of time.
The things that you stood powerless against, assuring yourself that fate has willed it so, will soon bring regret.
But fate controls our lives to a degree, if not in life then in death, so if you wait at the sidelines for the world to move around you – it will, but it will move without you.

I am too powerless, paralyzed with fear.
I preach this way of life, this passion for fighting for those you love, for the things that make your existence significant, the things that define you; yet, I am too afraid to face what I want most.
I wait and I postpone and I linger on hope and doubt and fear; I wait on fate.
I tell myself, fate has brought me here and fate will lead me away from here. I’m not brave enough to take the first step, though so far I have seen that by taking small steps every day I can achieve miraculous things – as long as I don’t let my fear and doubt paralyze me and prevent me from taking another step.
The point to which I have brought myself in mere weeks is so far away from where I’ve been before I can but see distant memories.
Alas, I taught myself how to forget as a defense mechanism but I could never filter the pain that still lingers on.

Hands, feet, eyes, smiles, tears, hugs, kisses – they’re all still there only distant and far away, like a vague and cloudy dream or someone’s life I have imagined as my own.
No, I couldn’t have.
I could not have been this loved.
I could have not looked like this.
I couldn’t have felt that way.

So many loop holes – that’s how I know this is a fairytale with a tragic ending: things don’t end that way in fairytales.
The prince fights off the dragons to save the princess. He fights, even though it might bring his life to an end, he fights still in spite of impossible odds and overpowering obstacles, his life is meaningless without his princess and it is that simple.
The fight, as in all fairytales, leads to victory. There isn’t another option, not in a story filled with so much love and beauty.
But a fairytale in which the prince does not love the princess and does not fight for her is merely a tragedy filled with dragons and the imminent demise of them both.
So what is it then? If not a dream?

Perhaps it is a part of an average princess’ life, there’s love and disappointment, happiness and obstacles but only one prince that will win her heart. And all previous failed attempts and perished heroes will not be remembered when the real prince awakes her from her sleep.
And then perhaps I will awake as well, and will be surrounded by love. Perhaps it will be then that I will blossom into a princess and not the helplessly trapped and cursed swan I feel I am.

Perhaps I shouldn’t depend on such wishful thinking… because there will never be a prince who’ll save me and I’ll have to roll up my sleeves, cut my hair, steal a horse and slay the dragon myself, but without a kiss the curse will never be broken and once in a while I will feel helpless once again.

But in reality?

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