Fairy tale

What is real life?
Because what I am living must be a fairy tale.
For things are so incomprehensible,
that this could not possibly be reality.

And when I say fairy tale,
I do not mean the ones you see in a movie with a happy ending.
I mean the ones that you would read in a book,
with unfortunate endings.

I have no prince.
My heart has been hollowed out 
by the events that have taken place thus far.

It is a shell,
So hollow that echoes ring through it.
Casting the illusion of a beat.
And with my empty heart,

I falsify emotions that one would need.
Happiness.
Love.
Sympathy.
Sadness.

I enter relationships, 
knowing how cruel it is to fake emotions to lead on another,
just to try and feel something.

But alas,
I feel nothing,
and move on.

What is real life?
Because for someone to have to live in such a cruel manor of life,
I must be in a Grimm fairy tale.