And so, like every other night, I will go out onto my balcony at dusk and play pretend. I will smile, because people don’t like when the sun is angry, and I will let this kingdom be deceived by a facade for a little longer. I will be their illusion, the royal family’s lie. And I will do it again. Over and over again. 

A sixteen-year-old me had run into the garden just as wild as her surroundings, with messy tears running down her cheeks and found the best thing in her life.

The sky is not quite blue today. No, today it is frosted gray: hints of a pale, pale blue slipping through the glassy, cold sky. It makes me want to fly, fall back into the clouds and never-ending gray. Instead, I am here, sitting at the old coffee shop, my fingers numb and my face frozen. 

“Oh, young one, you must learn that there is always beauty in the sad. Without the darkness there can be no light and without tears there can be no joy."