She grew up wishing on the brightest star in the sky, staying up late in the dark because she needed that one chance 11:11 gave. She's spent who-knows-how-many pennies and countless breaths on dandelions.

She's just a dreamer.

She was one of those girls who wanted to be a princess when she grew up. Her nose perpetually stuck in a thick novel and her head in the clouds, eyes staring past the chalkboard and a thousand miles away.

She'd never felt pain. Parents who loved her and a home to go back to everyday, she's never felt suffering. And she's always wanted more.

She wants to walk tall and proud and feel like she's worth something She wants a Prince Charming who'll sweep her off her feet. She wants someone beautiful and intelligent and witty and perfect, someone who'll make her laugh and she'll love him forever, this she knows.

She's liked so many boys and tried to find him, and she doesn't know if he's ever the One, but she'll hope because she knows he'll find him, one day, and he'll be worth it all.

She found him.

In a boy her best friend had liked, and she shouldn't have, but she had. He'd been reserved and cold, but so beautiful, standing tall and proud, dark-haired and sunlight glinting off glasses that hid perceptive eyes that had shined with something. Perfect.

She loved him before she knew she had, tried not to because how many times had she thought she'd found her prince and he'd been nothing but a trickster in disguise? She had reached out, tried to touch that bright, glowing figure, always just a little too far ahead. He'd flown and she'd tried too, always following him.

She fell.

Bruised and broken, hopeless and wanting so much to hope, she resolved to find someone else. Someone to replace him, someone better.

She thought she found him in a boy, and he'd seemed like a prince. He'd been quiet but sweet in his own way, and he had loved her, completely, with his whole heart.

But it wasn't enough. She'd gotten snatches of joy, felt the ecstasy of loving and being loved in return, when she found out it wasn't enough, would never be enough.

Because she'd fallen for her cold, proud prince. She'd cried and apologized and he'd forgiven her, reluctant but understanding, and maybe he'd sensed her lies, but he never said a word.

She loves him, and it hurts so much, she doesn't know how much she can bear anymore. Some days she wants to just give up, give up on everything, but then he'll smile at her and laugh and she'll feel that bliss and she thinks that it's not fair.

It's not fair that she has to love him so much, and all he feels is that, maybe, she's a burden. He's a prince in every way, confident and graceful, but he's not hers. She's his, all his, loving him with every bit of her heart and soul that she has to offer, she'd give him the world if she could, but he's not hers.

It's not fair that sometimes he gives her hope that he could be hers, that occasional look that makes her feel like she's drowning in happiness. She tells her friends, whispers behind hands that she likes him, maybe loves him, and wishes she doesn't because she can't stand those sympathizing gazes. She loves him, but he doesn't love her. And maybe some of that sympathy is pity, pity reflected from her eyes in theirs, because it's all she feels. She shutters her emotions from her expression and repeats that she's okay, over and over, and maybe she'll start to believe it herself, maybe they won't see the hurt that she can't hide in her eyes.

She thinks of princesses cast under spells, offering poison laced with lies with smiling lips.