When I was little, I had my whole life planned out to a single point. I knew where I’d be, when, and how I’d get there.
As I’ve grown up, things have taken twists and turns in the road and the little fairytale I’d planned has disappeared from possibility.
When you get older, it’s the little things that make you happier; family time, cute moments with boyfriends or friends, cuddles. And it’s these things that make you happy and seem to matter more.
You see happy ever afters all the time, but never at the end. Weddings, birthdays, New Years Eve kisses, the things of film scripts and fairytales. And I guess in a way each of these moments are their own happy ever after and each have their own story.
I think we all feel that happy ever after feeling at different times in our lives; and each fragment of our memory of that moment is its own happy ending. Whether it’s the first time someone told you they loved you, or the last time you ever had to take an exam, or that feeling you get when you get into bed after the most perfect day. Theyre all happy endings in their own way.
That boy who broke your heart was once your happily ever after, and the boy who fixed you also was. It’s that feeling of content in which you want to live in that moment for ever, those are the real happily ever afters.
I can’t say necessarily that I believe in real happy ever after, because I’m not at the end yet. I hope when I’m old and grey, I’ll be sat with my husband and grandkids and will be able to look back and accept my happy ever after. For all of its ups and downs, all of its adventures and catastrophes and everything else. A lifetime of happy ever afters brought back to one point I can call my life.