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Happily Ever After?
Cinderella got her prince with the help of a fairy godmother, Snow White with the aid of seven colorful dwarfs, and Sleeping Beauty got the kiss to awaken her with the three good fairies’ assistance. Where are the popular “love messengers” in this day and age, or is it all a fairy tale with no happy ending? The tales always start with a young, fair maiden in distress. Thin and absolutely flawless in a flowing gown upon her frame in one scene or the other, describe these stereotypical cartoon beauties. These “love messengers” seem to guide every young girl around the ages of six to ten. They seem to flutter about their heads, or bow their grubby heads to them, in awe of their spectacular beauty and radiance that can only come from the imagination of a child.
Claim I had no childhood, but I don’t believe in “love at first sight,” or “just knowing” my prince from the other drab “men” in the world. I’m always told there are plenty of fish in the sea, but the sea just dried out from lack of rain, and pollution for me, and now I’m left to choose from the bones of the fish the gulls haven’t yet stole away. Am I so unimportant as to be forced to live a life without my prince upon the white horse, carrying me off into the sunset? My fairy has yet to come to me, and tell me to dry my tears, and with a wave of her wand, I’ll be in a blue-crystalline dress with glass slippers and my hair in such a wacky hair-do it’s nearly impossible to get right, even with a few extra hours to spare.
I figured, when I realized my fantasy friend won’t come to me, that Disney and other companies that deal with entertaining children, that they try to strengthen the bond between parent and child by creating a film that would be loved and last for generations to give some common ground for the parent and child to converse upon. I’ve had those conversations with my mother all the time. She would tell me it was like that with my father. She kept telling me how wonderful it felt after they men, and after their small wedding, they would have liked to live the American dream in a house with a lovely garden and white-picket fence. There would be a dog in the yard, a golden retriever, playing with a child, and the neighbors would be smiling all the time, and keen to offer their services, no matter the problem or occasion.
Mother never got to live that dream, as the relationship between her and I ended after she became a drug addict, and father divorced her. Now, I’m living the American dream with my father in her house with the garden and white-picket fence she wanted so desperately to achieve and obtain for me. We had a good relationship, all revolving around those fairy-tale stories turned animated by Disney. After seeing Alice in Wonderland for the umpteenth time with her, not long after my fifteenth birthday, she explained to me that’s how she felt when she got high. She blurted it out so suddenly; it took me awhile to realize what that odor was in the house every night, and why she always looked so terrible. The money she earned as a substitute teacher went to support her addiction, and turned out relationship sour. A few years later, father divorced her, and won custody of me.
Needless to say, I was devastated. All those movies I watched with her, depicting a happy home with a father, mother, and a child washed away like the cocaine and marijuana my father made her flush down the toilet after I had told him what she said. With the swirling of the waters, my mother went out of control, running away to live with a dealer she knew, hence my father winning custody of me. I’m a regular old cynic towards love, and towards those movies that created my expectations of a happy home, where mother and father are both beautiful, flawless people, their meeting something out of a book, and their life ending with a “happily ever after.” I’d wonder at night, lying in the spacious room my father graciously offered me, if I was heading down the same path? Would I stride down the path taken by millions and fill my child’s head with such slander as happy endings and expectations that every family is perfect? Giving my hard earned cash to companies, like Disney, to paint a portrait of a fairy-tale wedding, and happy endings?
They destroyed my relationship with my mother. More or less, my thoughts of her, and now only realizing that mother believed in those types of endings too, and never once did it cross her mind that something like this would ever happen to her. These events leave me wondering if I’ll ever see the cursive writing at the end of my journey reading: “And they lived happily ever after?”
**All my stories have drugs in them! Next story, no drugs, I promise. I wrote this story as part of my final English exam. Theme was supposed to be losing innocence, or relationship with an adult/parent. We were supposed to find the theme in 3 other pieces of literature we were supposed to write a literary annalysis on, and those were the two themes I got. Enjoy.***
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