This is a very sad story.
It has happened before, and it will probably happen again.
It’s about a girl—she was about your age, actually—who fell in love.
The one she loved was handsome, and kind, and smart, and everything she could ever wish for. He was always with her. He always listened when she needed him. He was always there when she cried. He greeted her with a smile every time she opened her storybook. They had been together since childhood.
Other people didn’t understand their love. They worried and criticized, but she paid them no heed. ‘I love him, and he loves me,’ she would say, and she would be happy.
She treasured his book. She treasured his story. She treasured the wonderful picture of him.
There was a young man about her age among those who worried. He loved her dearly, but he was far too timid to tell her so.
And so he showed his love in the only way he could; through his kindness he was able to become something of a friend to her. This made him mournfully happy.
The three existed around each other: the prince in his storybook, the girl loving the prince, and the boy loving from afar. He once asked if she was truly happy with this love, and she answered, ‘We are always together. He always listens. He always cares. It’s true, sometimes I’m lonely, and he’s not able to hold me, but I’m happy…because…I am. He’s not like other men. Other men only hurt. They only want one thing. They destroy. My prince is perfect. He protects me from pain. He’ll never make me cry.’
The two grew up as good friends, and they eventually reached the age where people decide to settle down and start families. And the boy found the courage to finally ask the girl he loved to marry him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she answered with a faint, benign smile, ‘but I can’t. I’m in love with my prince. He has always been with me. He was there when I was alone, and listened when I was sad. I could never betray him like this.’
‘Your prince is fictional!’ he cried in anguish, ‘He’s only a story! I have always been there for you! I listened when you needed! I was your friend! Please, I beg you to come away from this fairytale before you harm yourself further!’
But she only shook her head, ‘I’m sorry,’ she replied sadly, ‘but I trust in the one I love. Someday he will come for me, and together we will live happily ever after.’
So she waited.
She waited for many years, and eventually she became old and sick. Her friend—now an old man as well—continued to love her dearly, and he cared for her in her illness.
One day, he found her in tears.
‘I’m dying,’ she said, ‘I wasted my life waiting for something that would never—could never happen! And now I am alone! I closed myself from everything around me, and now I have nothing! I can never go back!’
The man who cared for her comforted her all he could, but he was unable to ease her pain.
And she died lonely, afraid, and full of regrets.
Thus ended the story of the girl who fell in love with a fairytale.