no more fairytales
No more fairytales. No more fantasies. No more stories.
That's how I feel these days.
Life gets so ordinary, so mundane. Where are all my stories, my adventures?
My life is filled with children and play and yet I feel divorced from my own magic, my own desires.
Watching everyone around you grow up, buy houses and have babies is a strange experience.
One I'm still not used to.
I feel like Peter Pan dragged out of Neverland. At first, willingly and then later begrudgingly.
Not that I want to be a child. I don't. But, I wouldn't mind being 27 again. 27 is a good age.
Old enough to get respect and yet you still have plenty of years between you and having to be a grown-up.
Almost 32, not so much.
I understand Captain Hooks' torment. The ticking clock getting louder, closer, pushing at me, mocking me, threatening.
Its not the tick tock which threatens but the Aligator which devours.
Where is my pixie dust?
That's how I feel these days.
Life gets so ordinary, so mundane. Where are all my stories, my adventures?
My life is filled with children and play and yet I feel divorced from my own magic, my own desires.
Watching everyone around you grow up, buy houses and have babies is a strange experience.
One I'm still not used to.
I feel like Peter Pan dragged out of Neverland. At first, willingly and then later begrudgingly.
Not that I want to be a child. I don't. But, I wouldn't mind being 27 again. 27 is a good age.
Old enough to get respect and yet you still have plenty of years between you and having to be a grown-up.
Almost 32, not so much.
I understand Captain Hooks' torment. The ticking clock getting louder, closer, pushing at me, mocking me, threatening.
Its not the tick tock which threatens but the Aligator which devours.
Where is my pixie dust?