my bed was a time machine. a soaring vessel of time and space cloaked in warm blankets with a fortress of pillows. each night i took a chocolate chip cookie, a glass of milk and set off my journey. the booksshelf in my room bragged about my exploits, i had been thirty leagues under the sea. to the swiss alps with heidi; watched at the glorious whitewasher's side. been to the rainforest with edward. but stories with dragons got me first because of the pretty princess - the helpless dimsel in distress. and with her, a prince clad in splendid shining armor.
i read, sighing, about how he plunged the sword into the dragon's heart. the years went on, the stories changed. paperback novels filled with purple prose - moonlit kisses and dashing heroes accompanied me on days when the boy i sighed over at school did not look at me at all.
i dreamt of the day i would become a woman that paperback romances talked about. she always had pillow-soft lips, searching eyes, and glorious curves. i woke up one day to realize i would never be a paperback heroine.
then u burst into the story. drawing me back to the make-believe, crystal-colored world. you fought dragons and goblins and ogres(:p). i am your princess in a castle, your paperback heroine. you showed me that we could live in our own fairy tale. :)
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