The Killer in Me is The Killer in You

Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, all that and more, were the fairytales I grew up with. From when I was a small, scrawny, fugly little girl, I've always believed that there's one person out there who's meant for you - two imperfect people who are perfect for each other. And if you end up alone in the end, I've always thought it's because the one you're supposed to end up with left the mortal world earlier than you, and hopefully you had managed to find that person before it happens. But more often than not it's a question of not whether you've met each other, it's whether you managed to not let that person go.

I have a feeling that nowadays we've become too scared, too impatient, too cynical, too cold-hearted to fight for love, to believe that things can work out fine, to have faith in the invisible chemistry that binds you and me together. It's like, you know that love exists, because you feel it so strongly in your heart, but you'd rather walk away than stay, because staying means facing an unknown, insecure future. Walking away is easier because at least you know what's going to happen - you'll be broken hearted and sad and alone - and somehow the negativity is a security blanket for us, as crazy and fucked up as that sounds.

I've always admired old couples who are still in love with each other after so long, who go through ups and downs together, who were on the brink of goodbyes but still turned around and fixed the broken pieces because they know they can't be without each other. Because things are only perfect if your imperfect other is around to complete you.

Why do we get tired so easily? What happened to us?