You look at me with those green eyes of yours, and I can’t help but stare back. Your light brown hair is tousled and you look like Peter Pan, ever more when you flash that devilish sweet smile of yours. Can I be your Wendy? Wait, Peter and Wendy don’t work out because Wendy wants to be the responsible mother. Ha-ha, very funny, if I was Wendy and you took me to Neverland, I would never, never ever want to leave. I would never grow up and I would explore the depths of life with you, every step of the way. I wonder if you think of me as Wendy and you Peter Pan, like me but vice versa. That would be nice.
I like reading books, but you think they’re boring. Why do you think they’re boring? Do you think I’m boring? I hope you don’t. I’ll never think you as boring. All those pretty words wrapped up into a crisp white page of a book that makes my heart flutter is an adrenaline rush that some would get from rollercoaster.
Rollercoaster’s are not my thing, however, if you took me to a roller-coaster park and took my hand and led me to one, I would do it just for you. Just so I would have an excuse to hold your hand and hang onto you and smell your cologne as I bury my face into the nape of your neck. I hope you wouldn’t mind.
You’re like candy to me, but more addictive. I dream of you as I fall into slumber, you’re in my mind the instant a love song comes on. Wild and adventurous green eyes and tousled hair, am I on your mind as much as you are on mine? Does that make any sense? I hope it does, but it probably doesn’t. Why is life so complicated sometimes, especially love?
You like Twix Bars and Snickers, while I like sour candy. At first, you seemed as a sour candy kind of person, but there you go surprising me again. Now I know what to give you on Valentine’s Day, but that holiday just went by a month ago and I forgot to get you something and you did too. Did you forget, or you just didn’t care about me anymore to get me anything?
Can we go to Neverland now my darling Peter? I miss Mermaid Lagoon and all the Lost Boys. I remember the way, second to the right and straight on till morning. Please take me dear Peter. I want our love to blossom once more like at the masquerade balls the fearies throw on the New Moon. I have such a longing to dance once more with you under the twinkling stars saying ‘hello’ from above. Don’t you miss that, dear Peter? So show up once more at my bedroom window and pull it open with a rush of breath, waking me from a deep sleep with your face the only thing in my mind. I’ll jolt up from my bed, awaiting your arrival, having already short jean shorts on and a tank top. Tinkerbell will rush in a small ball of fiery glow and glittering pixie dust and yank on the back of my hair. You’ll beckon me with one hand and I’ll run to you, dear Peter, and take that hand. Grabbing Tinkerbell, you’ll shake most of her pixie dust on the both of us, my chocolate brown hair sparking in the inky black night as we fly to the second star on the right. We shall fly till morning, and arrive in Neverland just as afternoon tea is being called, and see the fae running around with trails of sparkling dust and the pink clouds floating along the skies.
Then, dear Peter, we shall never leave. I shall not miss my normal life, maybe a few dear friends, but we shall go rescue them later and bring them to Neverland. We shall build a gigantic tree-house amongst the large trees of the rainforest with parrots, and live there happily. The shore of the beach will be a few feet away, by following a worn path. Many nights will be spent on that beach, just you and me, strolling along and holding hands, you kissing me occasionally on the cheek, sometimes surprising me with a long, romantic one on the lips. No shoes, bare footprints in the sand. They shall me there till the Dawn tide, but you and I will never forget them being there.
Sometimes in life I think humans go for the things they can’t get. Like Peter does with Hook, or Hook with Peter. Both want the opposing to suffer, but neither can bring themselves to do it. Another example is Wendy with Peter, she wants Peter to love her, but Peter is just a mere boy. I myself should know.
Besides all those kisses I pretend you gave me, and all those long, comforting hugs when I needed them that I pretended you gave me too, I have that kiss around a small chain on my neck. But that, sadly, is pretended too. You being Peter Pan and I Wendy are pretended too; all in a fantasy world, while I’m day-dreaming of you. You loving me, why, that’s just pretend too. You hardly talk to me anymore, and when you look at me there’s no emotion in your eyes. I ache to talk to you like old times again, and for you to love me again. I miss that.
I compare us to Peter and Wendy because, well, I do love the story dearly, but for another reason also. Because, Peter and Wendy don’t work out, Peter wants to always be a boy and be immature, and Wendy wishes to grow up, and be mature. I’m Wendy because I’m more mature that you are, and you’re Peter because you’re that immature boy that I want to grow up, yet you refuse besides our love.
Since our fairy tale is now closing to an end in my mind, dear Peter, I shall have to bid you farewell. Farewell to Neverland, and Mermaid Lagoon, and my, my, don’t forget dear Tink. Farewell to our tree-house in the rainforest with parrots, and that beach just a few feet away. Some things I’ll never forget is that beach, so many memories made up in my mind at that beach, I hope you’ll remember it most too, but what will you know about this magical land of Neverland? You won’t, so let’s keep it that way. So, The End, and farewell.