Call Me Naive — But I'm Still Holding Out For Fairytale Love

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Type Of Girl Who Believes In Love

I was the type of girl who grew up cloaked in fairy tales and drifting between happily ever afters.

I often played dress-up and without fail chose to be the princess. Every time I played with dolls, the scene remained the same: the prince came to save the damsel-in-distress.

I grew up reading stories of people beating the odds and falling in love. I grew up believing in things that filled my heart to the brim with hope.

I was the type of girl who fantasized about her one true love and what type of life we would lead. I'd daydream through car rides, train rides, bus rides, and plane rides. I'd stare up at the clouds and wonder if he would see the same shapes as me. I'd wonder what he'd see in me.

I'd scribble all of my little loving dreams in my diary. I'd imagine until the moon took me under its arm and cradled me to sleep.

I'm the type of girl who's always been a dreamer. I've always been the one people scoffed at when I talked about love.

I've been the girl who thinks of love in a thousand different shades of the brightest colors, while the rest of the world sees black and white. I've never lived in a grey area; I live in the liveliest shade of yellow. I exist in the center of flowers, in between "I love you" and on the very edge of vulnerability.

I'm the type of girl you think is absolutely crazy because I'm just so crazy about love. The silliest thing about it all is that I've been hurt so much, you'd be shaken to know I've never given up. But how could I give up when it's all I used to dream of?

So I continue to pick petals until this field of flowers is empty, and even then I'll wait for the rain so they can grow again. I'll pick every petal toward destiny.

Yet, I'm also the type of girl who won't need to be saved. I won't be the damsel-in-distress I used to imagine. I've saved myself plenty of times before because I always knew I was worth saving.

I knew my heart had not met its match, so every time someone broke me, I had to fix me. I had to fix myself so I could keep dreaming. I had to keep dreaming because otherwise I'd spend my life just sleeping.

I'm the type of girl who doesn't know how not to feel. I feel so much that emotions spill from me. People have always questioned it and tried to change my ways, but they don't know what they're missing. They may notice when I'm so deep in despair that I'm too weak to breathe for air, but they don't notice the elation that escapes me when I can't hold the magic of joy between my teeth.

Feeling is who I am. It's my biggest weakness but also my biggest strength.

I'm the type of girl who tends to get her heart broken. I incline to trust, I lean toward risk, and I lead with the heart on my sleeve. It hasn't always done right by me, but oh how much it has taught me. It's taught me how much of myself I will give for another, the parts I keep for myself, and the magic of putting missing pieces together with the new ones I configured.

I am who I am because of my breaks, and oh my, how they sparkle so brightly, dismantled together.

I'm absolutely nothing like the type of girl I thought I'd be. I've found I have more dreams than just saying "I do." I've found I want to see more things than just love at first sight. I've found that I can feel blissful even when I'm completely alone. I've found that I've created a reality far better than the scribbles in my diary.

Yet one thing remains steady: I've never given up on love, or what it could be. I still believe it will be like seeing the brightest color and waking up from my lifelong daydream.

I'm the type of girl who's full of contradictions, can never live in just one moment, laughs too hard, cries too loud, and loves harder than you'll ever know. I am her and she is me. She's someone I'm so delighted to be.

I may not make sense to the rest of the world and bystanders may shake their heads at my naivety, but my faith remains as steady as the ocean tide, just waiting to get crashed into.

I'm the type of girl who grew up on fairy tales and I'm unbendingly proud to admit that I've never given up on my own. So may we all learn to see that shade of yellow; may we all choose to believe; may we all find the happily ever after that's so much better than what we read it would be.

May we all remember what it's like to just innocently dream.

This article was originally published at The Huffington Post. Reprinted with permission from the author.