Hey said the lady with a bittersweet look in her eye
"What a beautiful day," she pretended as her voice disappeared in a cry
I'll write you out of the story like you knew that I would
Living happily ever after never happens for good

--

The paperwork in front of me felt continuous, as if it would never stop. Word after word made no sense to me, and pain was shooting into my brain as a headache was forming. Distant chatter sounded like a drone of bees, as I sat in my stiff chair – breathing slowly, as the clock lingered over the seconds longer than usual. My coffee cup lay untouched, and as I put it to my lips, I only felt the bitter cold taste enter my mouth. Quickly I spat it back out. Boredom was an understatement.

As I shut my eyes, I was pushed into a few seconds of relaxation; only to be awoken by a tap at my shoulder. As I looked up I was shocked to see a familiar face: brown hair, tan skin, chestnut eyes, that same smile. My throat ran dry, shock came over me and I closed my eyes shaking my head – upon opening them, the illusion had disappeared. Instead, I was face to face with an overly concerned colleague. He had red hair, green eyes, and freckles all over his pale face. I took a deep breath; I was silly to believe he of all people would be here.

I plastered a smile across my face, and listened intently to his bemused ranting, speaking about the company's condition going downhill. And, like usual, he was putting a bigger burden on my shoulders, handing me double the amount of paperwork that was already visible on my desk. But, once again I plastered a smile on my face, pretending that I was more than grateful to accept another task.

Turning around to the new set of words, dizziness erupted, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. In all my years, I had never had to handle so many sheets. Even when I was queen, I distracted myself from it all by escaping into the courtyards...

I suddenly caught myself. What the bloody heck was I thinking? Shutting my eyes I slapped my hand to my forehead, trying to alleviate myself from my childhood adventures. How stupid of me. I sighed and continued on with my work, the blue pen in my hand.

After hours of constant strain, I was finally dismissed if only for a while.

Running out of the building, I found a bench around the corner and plopped myself down. Unwrapping the sandwich I had packed, I took a few bites, but found myself enjoying the sunshine rather than eating. It was a beautiful day. As I sat there, my hands in my lap, I shut my eyes and listened to the sounds around me. Footsteps, car horns, chatter. This was...this was...this was home. I sighed. I could feel the heat of the sun dance across my face, as the wind blew through my hair – and with it came a strange scent. It was familiar, yet it was something I hadn't encountered for a while. It was hard to pinpoint, and as I opened my eyes to stare at the bustling streets, I still could not find the source.

Frustration overwhelmed me, and I tried hard to ignore it. Instead I focused on the people busily walking by. There were women coming to and fro from the nearby market, filling baskets with food. Men were walking along fashionably, holding onto their hats, as they trekked to wherever it was they were going. A few passed by and wave nicely to me, and as every other day I would put on a smile and wave back.

A mother with her four children was passing by, and she gingerly smiled at me. I smiled back, but was suddenly focused on the children. There were four of them. Two girls and two boys. The girls had brown hair, one boy had black, and another was blond. It was déjà vu. The children continued on playing, holding onto their hands, chanting faint words and phrases that I had to strain my ear to hear them. Listening intently to their games, I discovered that they were pretending to be Kings and Queens of a magical land, that had dragons, and castles, and unicorns. I smirked. I prided myself at the moment, knowing that those days were truthfully just events of imagination and pretend.

Amusement was reflected on my face, as I watched the group disappear into the distance.

If only they knew. If only ...

But, that was my choice. That night years ago as I cried into my hands, making a decision. I pushed them away...truth was I pushed myself away. I had distanced myself in order to save myself. But here I was now, still dying and drowning in vague sorrows. Words no longer connected us. They gave up, and I stopped trying. They continued on believing...and I didn't. We lived our lives, but I realize that they held onto a faith that I was no longer a part of.

He was a businessman now, working hours like father once had. He had become a teacher, studying history and such. And she was finishing her schooling; writing and painting at the same time. And here I was, working in a cramped office, eating lunch outside every single day. Thinking about them. I sighed. I remembered running to the train station, watching him get in another fight. I remember her calling my name. I remember hugs and laughter. I remember stories, and...and adventures...and the fear of war—and how he ran inside to get that picture. These memories that I still somehow cherished, as if laying in a dusted scrapbook, could not compare to the real thing.

A stray tear fell from my eyes, and I frantically wiped it away with the back of my hand. It was no use crying over lost things you knew were to never be found. No use at all. Picking up my leftovers, I walked back into the grey building, and ran to the washroom. Opening my purse, my fingers were shaking and it took me a while to take out my necessities.

Slowly I redid my face, hoping to hide all signs of weakness. I scoffed. All these years as I searched in that mirror for a girl they believed was still there, I had finallly come to terms that she wasn't and never would be. Instead, I saw a grown up lady, living a regular life, working a regular job, and putting on her regular face. Family, what was that word anymore? Really, it was just me.

They had accepted this, and I no longer appeared in the pages of their life. They had erased me, written me out of their story, as I had done to them.