When I was a kid, I used to believe that I was a character out of some book, where my life was part of a fascinating plot, connecting lost puzzle pieces that would fall apart if not for my existence. As I grew up, however, I convinced myself that I was extremely real, as was the world around me. The realization that my existence did not in one bit affect the flow of any award winning script was definitely not easy to digest. But the overwhelming evidence against my theory left no doubt in my mind whatsoever. To begin with, if my life had been penned down, it had been done with extreme attention to detail. Such detailing, to the level of my shoe size and eyesight, can rarely be seen in literature, and definitely not for supporting characters. That I was not the protagonist was evident: I was neither a princess nor a pauper, not amazingly gifted at any of the arts and definitely not breathtakingly beautiful! I was not the antagonist, simply because I am not evil! In short, I was fairly uninteresting and nothing of importance ever happened to me. Thus, dear friends, I came to the conclusion that I never had a fairytale!
Now, some ten years after convincing myself of my absolute irrelevance, I would like to propose a plot for a fairytale. One in which someone like me can be the central character, and live happily ever after. You see, magic, if it happens, doesn't happen to pretty people only, nor is love restricted to royals. You can of course argue that magical love is a thing restricted to the rich and famous, but I'll simply cite about half a score examples to the contrary to end the debate. That, however, is not the point because my plot does not have a prince charming or a pumpkin carriage, mirrors don't talk to me and as far as I am aware I am neither a mermaid nor a duck.No this fairytale does not have magic, nor the ideal man and it definitely does not speak of the kind of love that makes you live happily ever after.This fairytale is about a real person; one who has been rejected and wronged, one who has loved selfishly and hated irrationally, one who can't sing or dance to win peoples' hearts and one whose fortune does not change overnight to provide every happiness in the world. On the contrary, this is the story of one of those simple beings to whom finding ten bucks on the sidewalk is worth writing down.
I start narrating this tale with the fear that most of my readers are more interested in the ten bucks than in me. However, to prove myself worthy of being the protagonist, I have decided to take up the challenge.