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I Believe in Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast

I love fairy tales. As a child I didn’t care for them all that much, but now, as a sixteen year old, I thrive in them. And I think it’s because as a kid I was too busy looking at reality.                                                                                                                                 I could have cared less that the color of my Quinceanera dress was fuischa, all I cared about was the elaborate set of fuischa wings with silver stars my mom bought me. I was finally going to have wings! I was going to fly!                     

The thing is, I believe in impossible things. I believe in zombies. I believe in mermaids and unicorns. I believe that all evil has a good side.                                                                                                           I believe in true love.                                                                                               And I’m an idiot for it. My parents are married, sure, but this is after all the disrespect. My house is a silent scream. I watch my best friend’s dad act like a jerk and I just sit there thinking, “You see?! All men are the same! Even ones with steady jobs!” But even with a tight grip on this reality I still find myself reading and wishing those characters and romances could leap from the pages and into real life.                                                      

I wish for my Mr. Darcy. I wish to have a nerd like Aidan from “Girl at Sea” by Maureen Johnson. I want a knight in shining armor on a white horse. A Prince Charming to love me every day.

Another thing to know about me: I love Clark Kent glasses. I see a guy wearing them and I’m hooked. At Academic Decathlon meets, at the mall, anywhere. I associate those glasses with a person a little like me: quiet, maybe dreamy. Or perhaps as a person better than me, a hard worker, an intelligent person. Someone not afraid of his own self. 

That’s the thing about dreaming, though. You have to wake up. But I’m stubborn. I hold on to things even when they’re broken. That’s why I write. Because I love making stories that in some alternate universe are true. 

Because my fantasies are the most important part of me. 

Notes

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