Life is so simple.

You're born. You die.

In the inbetween, you fight.

You're a little girl. You fight with your parents about wanting to stay up just a little longer with your storybook. The witches and dragons and wonderful things caught between the pages are so fantastic, they have to be real. You fight with your sister because she doesn't agree. You fight with the boy down the street because he doesn't agree that your sister hung the moon.

You love them all anyway.

There's a little boy. He grew up in the world between the storybook pages. You meet on the way to start your own adventures in a magical castle. His clever eyes sparkle with a light that comes from never having to love anything in spite of something. He certainly didn't have to push his sister for a turn on the park swing

.

Everything is battle. Every exam, every sneer from a stranger, every whisper amongst peers. But in spite of the difficulties, you thrive, in spite of entering a new world, you love your life. The boy teaches you the difference between fighting for something and against something. It just takes a few years. And it makes sense to think that he's also a foe - you hurtle words and looks back and forth. But the words are not sticks, and the looks are not stones.

And at the end of the fight, you win each other. You love in spite of the people who say you shouldn't. In spite of the boy down the street, who you decide is wrong about most things.

You love because it feels like summer when you kiss in the November rain. He makes you laugh until your sides hurt and you feel light enough to float away.

You love because when you hold his hand you feel like you could take on the world - and you'll have to.

The world from the storybook is not as picture perfect as it seemed when you were a child. The dragons are nothing compared to the sinister side of humanity. It comes creeping in from the shadows of your fairytale. Hate, destruction, and the lies that make them harder to fight. Because you and your man, a little boy and a little girl no longer, are fighters.

So you'll fight for your world, real and precious and more than could ever be contained in any number of pages, and you'll fight for each other. Against every challenge that arises everyday, though they may stack up so high you feel like they might tumble down and crush you. Some days you can't remember who you were, so young with wide eyes full of wonder. The worries weigh more than your too few years can withstand. But, everytime, he takes your hand and reminds you, tells your story. All your past embarrassments and frustrations become poetry as he weaves together words that always, always, unite you.

Leaves keep falling from your family trees as time brings new seasons and tides of war. Each year a trail and a triumph.

But as long as you stay together, things could end up alright. In self-indulgent moments you think not of death and dismay, but of growth and possibilities. Of another little boy and little girl, gathered around a kitchen table with your own eyes and smiles beaming back you.

Now you have another thing to fight for - a happily ever after. It feels foolish, but vital.

One day you take his hand and look right into his eyes. Because he already knows, but he's also taught you that words have power.

"I want you. Here, with me, everyday. Even when you're being a lummox and getting on my nerves and even when you can't stand me talking to myself and especially when it looks like there's no way out. I want to wake up and fall asleep with you by my side. I want you to be the last thing I see on this Earth because your face reminds me of all the best things about living, and everything worth dying for."

Life is so simple.

You live. You die. You fight until the very end.

"Alright, Evans."