It is interesting that the dark night will arouse strange thoughts that you can’t imagine thinking during the day time. Maybe it’s because of the fact that I’m excessively sleep-deprived and not-a-little delirious. Maybe it was because it was 1 o’clock in the morning, and we all know only crazy people are out on the open road at that hour.

Disney’s seminal movie “Beauty and the Beast” came out in the late Fall/early Winter of 1991. That earlier summer I had already become enamored with it, having seen a preview at the Disney-MGM Studios in Orlando, Florida. I must’ve watched it at least 20 times the year it came out.

I guess the story resonated with me.

At the time, it was the ultimate fairy tale story, where the damsel in distress had been replaced by an ensorcelled beast, and the hero was a beautiful, intelligent woman.

The curse never made sense to me, so I got to thinking.

What if the curse was unwittingly self-inflicted?

I had finally ripped the “Beauty and the Beast” Soundtrack to my iPod. I think the last time I had actually listened to it was at least 12 years ago.

Looking back at the last 15 years of my life, it is somewhat humorous what a strange loop self-fulfilling prophecies are. I have already met the woman who ensorcelled me, or more truthfully, who caused me to ensorcel myself, continuously reminding me that I cannot love someone else if I do not love myself. After completely failing to win her heart, I sought comfort in all the wrong things, trying to turn myself into the monster I believed myself to be. And that’s how it’s been for a long while now, never trusting myself to show my true self, believing that my light was doomed to be hidden and covered forever.

It was only recently that my heart stirred. I came to find someone who believes in the good in me, mostly because she always tries to find the good in everything, and by slow, creeping measures, I’ve started thinking about how I might break my own curse.

I also realized that life is not a fairy tale, that she need not be the princess who would rescue my imperiled soul, who would be the love of my life. Maybe she’s just a good fairy, the beautiful enchantress who aids the faltering protagonist, who would finally turn me into a real boy, or make me realize that I was wearing the answer right on my feet, and I’ll had to do was click my heels three times and say “there’s no place like home.”