We all have a little Neverland in us.
Remember when things were simpler? When we didn’t have bills to pay, people to impress, exams to study for, papers to write? When we were never going to grow up.
We were the Lost Boys. We were the ones to “fall out of their prams when the nurse [was] not looking,” and because we weren’t claimed by our parents in seven days, we were collected by the fairies and flown to Neverland—a prison for orphans to serve a punishment that was never ours. We learned only to trust those just like us because all adults have failed us, because all adults have abandoned us, because all adults are pirates. We find solace with those who remember how to have fun, use their imagination—those who could fly with a sprinkle of pixie dust and a happy thought. We adjusted our sails for the second star to the right and straight on till morning.
But then we look in the mirror.
We see no Peter Pan looking back at us. Maybe Peter Banning.
We’ve been the Lost Boys (following the leader, the leader, the leader). We’ve been the pirates (It be a career as a buccaneer, it’s the life of a pirate for me!). We’ve been the bad guys. We’ve kidnapped Indian princesses and fairies and Darlings and Bannings in order to get what we want, what we think we need.
In our hearts dwell both the lost boy and the pirate. Just like in Neverland. And they will always be at war.
We are Neverland.