This is the story of what it means to be a Princess.
It was last night, under the full moon, that I fell while trying to hurriedly cross the street, and I hurt my foot. Badly. I even broke my shoe. This is why people think crazies are out on the full moon. Because crazy stuff will happen. We should all be cautious, especially us magick-folk.
Lore, juggling our Chinese takeout in one hand, managed to help me up and to the median of the road. Cars drove past us as I sat in the tiny little space, separating me from being alive and a crushed explosion of red roadkill. A man saw me in peril and helped Lore get me across the rest of the street before leaving, and there I sat.
“...This hurts,” I blandly stated. My usual eloquence, and a large chunk of my pride, was shot.
“Do you need help?” Lore asked again, looking me over.
“I can walk,” I stated in an assured tone, but it was then that two other women, a mother and her daughter, walked over. Lo behold! The mother was one of Lore's classmates at Le Cordon Bleu. She had recognized Lore's reddish hair from the street side. Perhaps easy to see in the full moon's light, I suspected.
I managed to struggle to my feet. Our nights plans were ruined: get the takeout, grab a movie and some drinks, and recline and rest easy in our cozy little apartment. Now, I would have to put on a brave face if I wanted to make it across the street to the shimmering golden beacon that was 7-11 in order to obtain my cans of Arizona Fruit Punch.
“I can walk,” I let out again, but the three didn't listen to me. Instead, they ushered me into the van, and off we drove. I did my best to keep a scowl off my face, instead deciding on a pleasant smile and idle chit-chat while Lore walked into the store, grabbing our drinks. She didn't see a movie for us to watch.
When her friend dropped us off at our apartment, oh dear. I shot a look up at the carpeted stairway that led to our second-floor condominium as Lore disappeared to put everything down, and then head back to me to retrieve me.
“Don't put too much stress on it,” She chided me. I wanted to snap at her to stop treating me like some child, but I knew it wouldn't do any good for either of us. She was worried, and I was hurt, and while her advice was the correct advice, I didn't want her to be telling me stuff I already knew! I had been having such a good week. And now this? I broke my freaking shoe.
This, my friends, is a good lesson in humility. My night was all right—I snuggled helplessly against Lore and watched some early South Park episodes on Netflix. I had wanted dessert, but in order to go get it I would have to walk to the store—and I didn't want Lore to go and do it. She was already doing enough in her efforts to help me.
And now I sit here on our beautiful, floral, Victorian-inspired couch, with a hurt leg, a pitiful expression, and thoughts.
A lot of media today tells you what it means to be a Princess. It means that you get what you want. However, when you think about it, no matter how rich, or privileged, or well-off someone is, it can't be theoretically possible to always get what you want.
I always considered Lore to be my knight in slightly rusted armor, but always charging towards me with a smile, always being there for me. Many times during our time together has she done the charming knightly duty of sweeping meoff my feet. However, this time it was quite literally, as I couldn't really walk. And while I was annoyed, put-off, and being tended to despite my increasing aggravation, I realized what being a Princess really meant.
Being a Princess is getting what you need, whether you like it or not.
Because no Princess should have to go without.
Admittedly, however, I feel a bit like Cinderella. I could really use a fairy god mother right now.
...What am I going to do about my shoe?