I was a dreamer.
I was a lonely kid almost all my childhood. I know what it is like to be a loner. I kept feeling neglected, replaced, and lonely with every fight at home. Whenever something went wrong, I would run away somewhere or start looking at the wall and dream things I wish would happen to me and put an end to my misery.
As a child, I heard and read too many fairy tales, which had this damsel in distress and a prince, who would always come and save her. And that’s exactly what I wanted- to be saved from all my life’s problems and also, from myself.
Those dreams happened to be my getaway from the real world I was living in. They gave me hope, someday, someone might come along, make me feel better about myself, about my life and every damn thing. Unfortunately, that never really did happen. In reality, every guy I met was full of himself, just like me. Soon I was tired, resentful, and hopeless.
It took me several months of therapy to understand and accept the fact that nobody is going to save me, I have to do it on my own. I learned that I am not some damsel in distress, and no guy is a prince and that those are some stupid ideas girls have been fed from childhood by society, media, and almost by everyone.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I gave up dreaming completely, but now I know the fine line between unrealistic and realistic dreaming. And, I know you wouldn’t disagree when I say that reality is somewhat better than dreaming.