The Bisexual Girl knew that most fairy tales included an enemy, and she wondered who her enemy was. Was it the amulet she’d used to post thirst traps? The prince she’d let herself pursue? The fairy-tale literary device that she’d gone all in on for some reason? And then it hit her—the enemy had been right in front of her the whole time. It had duped her into suppressing her desires. It had convinced her that winding up with someone—anyone—was more important than listening to her own needs. The enemy had always been fairy tales themselves. And for the Bisexual Girl, perhaps just realizing this
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