Dear Fleur.
I was 14 when I first read Peter Pan.
And, yes, I am ashamed to say that. I love that book with all my soul. I love the man who wrote it. I one time cried the day after my birthday because that's the day he died.
I hate that day.
I read every book at least twice. Once to read it. And the second time to love it. You can't really love some[one]thing until you've met them fully.
I met Peter Pan the second time.
He sat on my windowsill as I laid on my bed and laughed at him. Crying over a shadow. How I wished I could think like J.M.Barrie. He had a magical mind. With ships sailing in his ears everyday. He was the kind of writer that makes other writers jealous. I think he probably wrote because it made him happy to fascinate people.
If I could make someone else believe ridiculous fantasies that I made up, I would never set my pen down. Honestly. It's like wrapping your own heart up and handing it to everybody in the world.
You probably get it by now. I really like the man. And the boy.
If I have children, I'll read it to them every night. And they will have Neverland mobiles that hang above their beds. And it will be a gorgeous life. Because they won't be 14 years old when they first heard or read Peter Pan. They will have been 4 or something.
I always wanted to be Wendy.
Even at 14 years old, I would pray to God and tell him I would leave my whole family behind just to go live in Neverland with Peter. But it never worked. So I sat and cut out 1000 stars and put them in my pillowcase and just pretended. But that had fail written all over it. But as J.M.Barrie would say,
"We are all failures--at least the best of us are."
Perfect. He even knew me at 14.
Love. Bella.
I was 14 when I first read Peter Pan.
And, yes, I am ashamed to say that. I love that book with all my soul. I love the man who wrote it. I one time cried the day after my birthday because that's the day he died.
I hate that day.
I read every book at least twice. Once to read it. And the second time to love it. You can't really love some[one]thing until you've met them fully.
I met Peter Pan the second time.
He sat on my windowsill as I laid on my bed and laughed at him. Crying over a shadow. How I wished I could think like J.M.Barrie. He had a magical mind. With ships sailing in his ears everyday. He was the kind of writer that makes other writers jealous. I think he probably wrote because it made him happy to fascinate people.
If I could make someone else believe ridiculous fantasies that I made up, I would never set my pen down. Honestly. It's like wrapping your own heart up and handing it to everybody in the world.
You probably get it by now. I really like the man. And the boy.
If I have children, I'll read it to them every night. And they will have Neverland mobiles that hang above their beds. And it will be a gorgeous life. Because they won't be 14 years old when they first heard or read Peter Pan. They will have been 4 or something.
I always wanted to be Wendy.
Even at 14 years old, I would pray to God and tell him I would leave my whole family behind just to go live in Neverland with Peter. But it never worked. So I sat and cut out 1000 stars and put them in my pillowcase and just pretended. But that had fail written all over it. But as J.M.Barrie would say,
"We are all failures--at least the best of us are."
Perfect. He even knew me at 14.
Love. Bella.
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