I'm sick of all the fairy tale stories where everything turns out happily ever after.
Did anyone ever tell the authors that life's not always perfect?
That people die?
That the princess doesn't always get the prince?
Or that sometimes the frog turns out to be just a frog?
My name is Dana Cruz and this is my fairy tale.
I was born into a broken home.
My dad was abusive and a drug addict.
Some days there was no money for clothes or food, so we went without.
He died when I was six in a gang conflict, caught in the crossfire.
It wasn't like any of us were particularly sad to see the man who had ruined our lives go, but it broke my mom's heart.
I think she really believed he loved her.
When I was eight my mom lost her job.
She drifted in and out of part time jobs, became an alcoholic and spent many nights at the bar, drinking her money away.
Sometimes she didn't come home at all.
Right before my tenth birthday my best friend went to the police about it.
She said it was for the best; needless to say she is now my Ex-best friend.
It was hard for them to find a family that would take me.
Of course it didn't help that I hated the guts of anyone who even thought about taking me.
I lived in eight different foster homes throughout the course of that year.
When they finally found a family that wouldn't opt out after a month or so I had developed an even sharper tongue and tough shell.
It didn't matter however because the family I was placed in didn't really want me.
They were busy and rich, sure their hearts had been set on raising a child, but as soon as they had me they shipped me off to boarding school and carried on with their lives.
That's how I came to PCA.
I immediately obtained a tough rep.
Everyone at PCA was scared of me and almost everyone kept their distance.
You heard me, almost everyone.
The great Logan Reese just had to hit on me at every chance he could get.
As much as I still hate to admit it I fell head over heals for him.
It looked a lot like something good was finally happening to me, but as we both know; my life is no happily ever after.
I was transferred to a school in France.
I never moved back.
I never saw him again.
Of course the newspapers told me he became a producer; they also told me he was still single.
But somehow that all made it worse knowing I might have had a chance with him.
I resolved to try.
I scrimped and saved to afford the flight back to America.
But by the time I had enough he was happily married.
I never got over him.
Now I'm an old maid who sits and stares at newspaper clippings, still living my broken fairy tale of a life.
And I can never help but wonder at the what-ifs.