Just because you have an evil step mother doesn’t make you a princess. Trust me I know. There is nothing princess like about divorced parents. The king, my father, is married to a woman who hates me. The queen, my mother, is an immature, self center desperate cougar. At times I wish they would lock me away in a tower, it would be so much more peaceful. I don’t know why princesses don’t take the poison apple or prick there finger. I would; it would be so simple so quick, and almost poetic. But I am not a princess and poisoned apples are about as realistic as wild animals helping me get ready for the ball. My school is having a winter wonderland dance and I realized that’s the closes thing I will ever have to a ball. A group of adolescent high school students in a stinky old gym all dancing to some crap noises that we call music. Even if I wanted to be a princess it would be impossible. So what I am about to tell you is the story of a girl, not a princess.
I am; and there's nothing i can do about it.
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