Princess in wonderland

Last night my dream man got engaged.
No pain, no surprise. His fiancee is a pretty, sweet BBC girl with a tender smile on face. A face Just like his mum, so soft and pure.
I know he will have such a happy ending since I knew him. Since the year before last year. I told myself he is the right one for me when I saw him in the first sight. But I was also sure I was not the one for him.
We met on the coach to London Heathrow airport, from that day on I have addicted to James Blunt's You are beautiful. I saw a fragile me in his black eyes, and too afraid to go for him.
He has too much good things that I can die for, but a figure that was too high to climb over.Like I am a little 7 years girl, shyly looking up to my prince and waiting for a careless glance.
I wrote him several letters when he was in Hongkong, I went his hometown to cast about any trace from him. I was so crazy for every reply from him. I was so eager to see him for a second time.
Until the day in HongKong.
There he was. Still has long hair covering half of his glitering face,still is so peaceful and bright. But only a little difference.
He is with her.
I hidden myself behide my big Vogue. My heart is beating fast. Oh, I finally see him after almost three hundred sleepless nights.But he has already got a company.
And He did forget me. He even cannot remember my name.
Alright. Mark. Farewell. Please be happy with your pretty young lady. And wish in the next life, you will love me and be with me.

Another sleepless night.
I left my wonderland,my UK and went back to China to be a financial journalist. Just like the other day when I was chatting with Jenny in a great sunny day. Wind whispered and I was painting out what my future might be. I said that I would be some serious-like reporter, working for some financial department while, she thought I was not that right for a position like that. "You are never that kind of person. But I admire ur plan."
But I did it.
Just like most people in my class. She also looked at me as some pretty little things, young , good-looking and simple, with a full in head of fashion icons. "I think you can get a job from a fashion magzine, which is perfect for your kinda people. "
My kinda. Like I was a supersize walking-Barbe, customized for those muscular guys who always have their male hormone overmuch. Like they will like my long slim legs under my mini skirt. Like nobody ever care about if I HAVE BRAIN.
I still remember how hurt and insulting it was when the shity German guy in my class treat me like an easy girl, open enough to have one-night-stand together, while I, stupid enough to believe he might want me to be his soulmate.And the Chinese girl who never consider herself a Chinese. She said she never talk to Chinese or speak any Chinese language, whilst she only had been in the UK for 3 years.
All are big liars. The whole class never told the truth. THEY DO NOT CARE ABOUT US. Those so-call friendly internationalism. They identified me as empty doll, but never prove if their conclusion are legitimate.
I wanna shout to them, I wanna prove that they are too arrogant.
But I did not do that. I did not even show any of my indignation. Because time can tell.
So that I got a internship in the FT. So that I am now a financial reporter.
And I will do more.
Not just a financial reporter in a top one financial newspaper in PRC, but a great English columnist in a world-famous newspaper like the Times, or the UStoday.
I will give them a big smile instead of showing my anger to those who ever look down upon me.
I will.