Fairytales Aren't For Me

They say there’s someone for everyone…

(yeah… right…)

Guess I missed my turn.

(nothing waiting…)

I grew up on promises, movies and lies,

happy endings written in white.

Thought if I loved hard, stayed soft inside,

it’d work out if I tried.

But love came hollow, half‑there, delayed,

showed up only when it wanted to stay.

I kept giving more, kept lowering bars,

wondering why it never felt safe in my arms.

(never felt safe…)

Maybe it’s not bad luck, maybe it’s truth,

maybe love just isn’t made for people like me and you.

Or maybe just me.

(yeah… just me…)

Fairytales don’t exist for me,

no forever, no destiny.

Everyone else gets chosen somehow,

I just watch it happen from the outside now.

They say “wait, it’ll come eventually,”

but I’m done believing blindly.

If love is real, it skipped right past —

fairytales don’t exist…

and I’ve made peace with that.

(kind of…)

I see couples laughing like it’s easy,

holding hands like nothing’s heavy.

I don’t envy it — I just feel numb,

like that life was never meant to come.

Every almost-love taught me the same,

I care deeper, they drift away.

I stopped asking what I did wrong,

some stories just don’t last that long.

(not mine…)

I used to hope it was timing,

used to blame the phase I was in.

Now I think some hearts are meant

to survive without being let in.

(locked out…)

Fairytales don’t exist for me,

no soulmates written in the stars for keeps.

I loved, I waited, I stayed too long,

and nothing proved me wrong.

They say “don’t give up, you’ll see,”

but hope just hurts eventually.

If love is real, it’s not my lane —

fairytales don’t exist…

and I’m done pretending they do anyway.

I’m not broken.

I’m not cold.

I just stopped buying what I was sold.

Not everyone gets a happy end,

some of us just learn to stand alone instead.

(alone… instead…)

Fairytales don’t exist for me,

and that’s the truth I live beneath.

No white horse, no rescue scene,

just me surviving quietly.

If love comes, it’ll have to be real,

not another lesson in how it feels

to give everything and get it back in pain —

fairytales don’t exist…

and I’m okay saying that.

Maybe there’s no one waiting.

Maybe there never was.

And maybe learning to live with that

is the most honest love I’ve had.

(yeah… maybe…)