Growing up in a small town and having two brothers can really change how a girl would normally think or act. Everybody knows of a little girl that would come home all muddy, rip heads off of Barbie dolls, or who would rather play with trucks than to paint her nails. Well, in this case, I was that girl. So most people weren’t surprised that I didn’t believe in fairy tales.
Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty: what is this junk?! But I’ve recently discovered that fairy tales don’t just revolve around a princess kissing a frog, magic potions, or leprechauns and fairies. A fairy tale can be whatever you want; a dream you have that seems too good to be true, a goal that seems too hard to reach but you work towards it anyways, or even the way a person acts that you don’t think will ever change. Every girl, it doesn’t matter what age or what personality, has thought of their own fairy tale.
My fairy tale began when I was about seven years old. We’d just recently joined a new church and my brothers easily made new friends while I sat back and watched this new world spin around me.
My older brother, Shawn, was about nine years old and he’d met a guy from church named Scott. Our parents met and –BAM- just like that my little brother Cody, and Scott’s little brother, Sean, were hanging out as if they’d known each other their whole lives. So Shawn had Scott, Cody had Sean, and I had…nobody. I was left alone. The guys didn’t want a girl hanging around. I felt alone.
Months passed by and I slowly began making friends at church. Shawn and Cody still hung out with Scott and Sean while I sat back and watched. I got used to feeling invisible. When I was about nine years old, we were going to the Brown's house for dinner and right when we walked in their door, I noticed how cute Scott was.
Pitiful little me. I had learned to stay invisible around the guys, but now I didn’t want to be invisible to Scott anymore. I started following him around all the time, just hoping that one day he’d notice me. I soon realized that getting someone to notice you was a lot of hard work, but I didn’t give up.
By the time I was eleven, Scott would be about thirteen or fourteen now, I was determined to talk to him. We pulled into the driveway as usual. Something seemed different, but I couldn’t quite figure out what it was. I walked in the house and to my dismay, Scott was standing in the kitchen holding hands with his girlfriend. My nightmare had become a reality.
Disappointed and discouraged, I still didn’t give up. A couple of weeks went by and the one girl was soon replaced with another and another until I finally stopped going with Mom to see Scott. I’d given up.
At this point, I was about twelve or thirteen and my brothers had stopped hanging out with Scott and Sean Brown. We didn’t go to their house anymore, and they never came over. All connections seemed to be lost. You would think that by this time I would have moved on and stopped thinking about Scott. But no, not me.
By the time I was fourteen, I covered, or so I thought, my scars of being hurt by a boy who never knew that I dreamed for him to talk to me. One day, I got home from school and checked my email. To my surprise, I had an email saying that Scott Brown had added me as a friend on Facebook.
That long lost hope was back now. We chatted for a few minutes and I game him my cell phone number. As I logged off of Facebook, I thought about those scars he’d left me with. Should I risk getting myself hurt again?
After four years of trying to get Scott to talk to me, being pushed further and further away, and finally covering those scars that he’d left, the dreams of that nine year old girl eventually came true.
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