We were branded the Fairytale Club at school...
I am at a desk. I am holding a pen. I am looking at a blank page. There is a ring on my finger.
This desk was custom-built when I was born so it is fitting that it be with me as I die. This pen is a a herald about to shout my life story out to the worlds. This book is my hopes, my dreams and all my fanciful fantasies. And this ring- this ring holds the most memories out of my numerous possessions. All I need to do now is to transfer them to paper. Easy, right? Well, so far I've managed a grand total of: one sentence that isn't really a sentence.
I've thought about giving up so many times- but I can't. I owe it to them. We were quirky teenagers when it all began. Average girls with above average hyper-activeness. Average girls with a not-so-average bond. We were three. Always the three until death intervened. Then there were two, and now only one. Me. And now I have got to tell you: fairytale endings are hard to come by.
Indeed it took us a long time to realize that Happily Ever Afters are a lot harder to find in reality than in fairy tales.
