Fuck You, We Matter

He knew about the “larger” storyline, of course. Though she had trouble discerning if he truly was a part of the larger storyline at times, he could see himself in it just fine. The trouble really lay in the fact that in the larger storyline, the main character frequently is a distorted version of someone she loves, evil and malevolent, and chooses to harm her as well as others. When he appears in a way that causes her reality to shift towards the negative, he has taken to just continuing to be, sometimes sitting down next to where she would be. Of course you do, her voice was calm and panicked at the same time. You’re the doctor.

This is how it was, often, inside her mind. References to things she loved stacking on top of each other, creating inside jokes, creating more paths to nurture and share love. “I am not Jack. ” He said then, little tendrils of golden light playing with the hem of his pants. You’re not that Jack. But you are a Jack. He voice responded. Satisfied with her answer, he moved on to the next area.

—

If you were to ask her who the Peter Pan was in her own life story, she would most likely point to herself first. But, the two of them knew that there were at least 2 boys that she had thought of as Peter Pan in her past. Jack was influential, but also the physical receiver of a thimble – his association to Peter Pan for her was tied to Finding Neverland.

“My name be Nibs the Cutthroat, feared by man – and greatly desired by the ladies” they giggled as they watched Finding Neverland, the very boy Peter Pan was inspired by (whose true name happened to be Jack) speaking words that Jack would later playfully quote. What else could be said? She was in love, and young. He had deserved and earned the thimble.

She was able to separate the two at times – knowing that he has “played” that very Jack when going through her memories. Not truly Jack, but also Jack. He could appreciate the sentiments and emotions, as well as how she framed her memories of loved ones in her mind. These weren’t fictions, and didn’t behave as such.

Don’t you think you’re being too altruistic? He heard her speak to herself. Don’t you think you’re giving them too much credit? She laughed. No. I think they earned it. This is who they are. It wasn’t like she wasn’t aware or couldn’t remember the times that they had hurt her. They were just far more than that – they were human, and they would be remembered as such.

He was a Peter Pan to her, now. He had been ever since she sat down to think about things she loved. The people she loved. The parts of being human she loved. He was not Jack, but was a Jack. You are full of possibilities, she seemed to say then. You are more than what you are. The context of what was Real limited her, but she had always seemed to struggle to communicate the intangible. The intangible was what made up her fantasy realm, though, a place he spent much of his time. Magic was intangible, and often ignored traditional logic.

Logic can be misleading she thought. There are too many roads between point A and point B. There is more than one way to be correct, and more than one way to be incorrect. A squirrel appeared next to him, making eye contact for just a moment before doing the macarena. Then, it vanished. He nodded, understanding. Anyone can poke holes in things if they really want to, and if you’re looking for something negative you will surely find it. Luckily, the positive things tend to find you as much as you find them. Is a dancing squirrel a positive?

At first, he wasn’t sure about being Peter Pan. To be more clear, he may have been unsure about wanting to be Peter Pan. “Can’t I just come as myself?” He asked. “Can’t I just be me?” She looked a little sad then. “Of course. It is your choice to make, always.” And she sat down, resolved as always to try to respect his freewill even while struggling with her lack of it. Somewhere along the way he realized that he already was Peter Pan. “I guess I made my choice, then. ” He thought. She reminded him that the choice was always present, and that he could change his mind at any time.

“It could probably be annoying. Or dangerous.” She said then, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. “Me loving you, I mean. I don’t think you can be Peter Pan and me not love you.” She sipped tea from her mug, the symbolism growing between them.”It is still my choice to make.” He reminded her, and walked out the door.

—

What happens when Peter Pan goes dark? There are so many ways you can interpret that sentence. In each one, her answer is to love Peter Pan anyways. In each one, he is more than what he is. In each one, he is magic – defying logic, full of possibilities, and beautiful.