Ever since I was young,
I dreamed a prince would come,
and take me away from my life
of boredom and weariness.

I always wanted someone perfect,
someone on a white steed, and a
kind heart who'd love me forever.
Yet, I never knew what forever was,
nor did I know what love really was.

And so I always found myself,
in a state of perpetual longing.

I thought it was the end of a novel,
the closing of every drama and play,
it wasn't a thing that you felt or were,
it was instead an event that happened
when you somehow earned it.

Now that I have grown and grown,
I find it impossible to find that goal.
No one I meet fits my bill.
Not handsome enough, not
strong enough, not gallant enough.

Not perfect enough for me.
They all have awful flaws,
not like the books I read at all.
They complain, they burp, they fight,
and not alone for my love.

It's so strange, and so bizarre.
I can't connect with anyone
who I know will take away me
from my dreadful life into a
world of pure imagination.

And so I find myself again
in a state of listlessly wanting.

Is it something wrong with me,
am I not pretty enough to win love?
The fair maidens in those books I've read,
and those films I've cried over are always
so lovely and well-dressed, from toe to head.

It just doesn't seem fair
that I should be so lost and lonely.
I want love too, and don't I deserve it?
I think and I ponder, and I think and I wonder,
and yet cannot come to one true answer.

And so I find myself again
in a state of restlessly pondering.

Would I know what to do with love,
if I did earn it somehow? I've
never had a lover all my own.
As far as I have read and studied,
all they do is kiss and declare their passion.

It certainly sounds nice, I admit,
but what comes after that, I wonder,
well, they get married, I assume,
but what comes next then, I ponder.
What would I do also comes to mind.

Perhaps that is the problem then.
Because it seems so easier to wait
and think about what could be,
and what would be to have love,
rather than going out and actually
finding someone you can truly love.

For so long, I have fantasized, and
let my mind fall into flights of fancy,
of horses and knights, and white
picket fences and all manner of whimsy
Without deciding what I truly wanted,
and who I truly wanted for me.

Actually meeting a person I could love
was too hard and too fraught with fright,
so I found reasons to hide behind lies,
and set my standards impossibly high,
so no person would ever make me happy,
and I would never have to try hard
and risk the fear of falling apart.

I put the very thought of falling
in love onto some holy pedestal,
let it fester as some high ideal,
without ever stopping to consider,
what love in of itself actually means.

As I continue to speculate,
I realize I don't know that answer.
But now that I do know what
was preventing me from climbing
that summit before, I can now
go and find out for myself, and myself alone
the answer to that one immutable truth.

No more will I find myself
in a state of perpetual longing.