Happily Ever After

I am, I was, perhaps it’s true, something of a hopeless romantic. Always living some fantasy of a life that wasn’t mine. Sitting next to the window, as the rain pouring my garden, writing letters to men who may or may not exist. I used to think romanticism was a thing meant for foolish little girls, fated to die most likely from a manic fixation of the unsatiated heart or some other equally ostensible death from which I, stubborn headed and bitter as I can be, couldn’t possibly ever suffer from. In some way I may not believe in love, in that desire of wanting or needing other soul. But I may, I knew, deep down, I do believe in happily ever after. It’s a terribly disconcerting of what’s inside the mind of a person, when it comes to the fundamental thing. 

Love story like the one in the fairytales is wonderfully promising. Pretty dress from fairy godmother, met a prince, falling in love, and lives happily ever after. Ah how I love this one, the mermaid who falls in love with a human. Something dreamy and magical in every story filled up my childhood mind with hope and imagination. But reality is not something written in the book. Love in a real world wasn’t as easy to digest as the book. It’s so much complicated than the one I used to believe. The fairytales love became wonderfully terribly wrong.

 

But time knows the truth, we’re walking by every page in a book, through every word written in it, feeling, experiencing every emotion in the letters. So it is, perhaps, the truth. Our stories still written, wonderfully, elegant, perfection, like no other stories we have ever imagine. Soon, we’ll find the person, and that time you’ll say, “Ah, there you are”. And so your soul will finally admit, this is the love you want to have. Love, in the way I mean loving someone, something in the most human way possible. I mean how you can wake up next to them one thousand mornings in a row, and it’s like seeing them for the first time, every time. I mean stories; voices, smiles and laughter that make you fall in love again and again. I just mean lips that always lighten up the butterfly in your stomach. And I mean the way they look at you and you don’t need words to know. I mean their name in the hollow of your mouth. I mean love as morning dew, heavy rain, and soft orange color on late afternoon. I mean love as light, love as gravity. Love as everything beautiful and hungry and terribly human, and how it hurts but how we crave for it anyway.

And even now if you don’t have someone to wake up next to, or even something less exciting like opening your eyes in the morning and realize that your dream is better than reality, the pain of your broken heart feels like an electrical surge through your body, that little press on your chest, and heavy burning tears on your cheek. Even if it’s just you against the gravity of it all, even then, there’s so much love in this world to both give and receive. As your heart ever cracked once and you may spend most of your life sheltered and kept free of any sort of emotion, stumble on fear or euphoria of love. But you know, from falling comes either great love or lesson, and both are always worth it.

I do still believe in fairytales love story, but perhaps my story is my own fairytales. Something out of this world. Something which is much more complicated than a hundred pages book. Something worth to fall, broken, bleeding, and dying for. It’s a story that I won’t change for another.

Pretty blue dress by Angryani Saputra

Makeup by Marceline Carlos

Shoes by Steve Madden