We grew up with them, we all did. These caustic little fairytales. The idea that life, love, and happiness were not only possible, but perfect. That every piece of misery was only a building block to something better. Like a broken heart and an empty wallet didn’t go hand-in-hand with a cold bed or a loveless marriage between two empty souls too scared to brave the cold earth without the comfort of ‘at least it could be worse’ on their lips.