I never had a tomboy phase. I grew up loving tiaras, glitter, and pink cupcakes. Some may not have seen the allure, but it always spoke to me and made me feel like a happily-ever-after was within reach. In the fairy tales I adored, the magic of transformative new lives and Prince Charmings was, of course, enchanting, but The Princess and the Pea – though not as common as other fairy tales – has always held a special place in my heart.
I often can’t help but see myself in her. Even with twenty mattresses stacked to the ceiling, after doing everything she could to make herself comfortable, she still feels that tiny, nagging irritation. No matter how hard she tries to ignore it or fix it, it remains. She knows everything should be fine, but that small discomfort lingers, reminding her that something’s wrong.
If you were to ask me how I was doing, I’d probably say “good.” And on the surface, that would be true. But just beneath that layer of assurance, there’s something else—a thin veil of unease I can’t quite shake, following me like a shadow. It’s an inkling, an inexplicable feeling that lingers even when everything is going the way I want, even when I’m surrounded by the right people. And so, like the princess in the story, I often wake up feeling just as restless as she did.
Sometimes I wonder how many of us carry our own invisible peas—small but persistent reminders that something isn’t quite right, something deeper than the assumptions we make even about ourselves. Sometimes I wonder if it’s just me. And I wonder and hope if, like the princess, we will one day find the answer to what they mean.
