When I was a little girl, I believed in fairy tales. I believed in princes and princesses and knights in shining armor. I believed in forever and happily ever afters. 

I was ten when reality hit me. My mom brought the evil home with her and there was no escaping it. That's when I learned that fairy tales were just that: fairy tales. The bad stuff is real, though. The difference is that I now know that the monsters and evil villains don't always wear capes and ugly scars. No: most of the time, they appear normal.

I'm drowning in reality, in my life, and I've given up hope that a knight in shining armor will rescue me. But maybe... maybe I don't need a Prince Charming after all. Maybe a knight without the shining armor and a broken smile will be enough to save me.