Enchanted Journeys

I speak candidly when I say Wendy Darling is my hero. Perhaps the contorted faces that line in front of me as I speak of my devotion are valid, but nonetheless, I say it with the utmost confidence. Believing was something I could do best: assuming I was great and everything in the entire world would and could be conquered, fall into the palms of my hand. Believing in these happy thoughts, alongside five siblings of which I govern, just as Wendy. 

I’ve lived in dozens of worlds; my life a mere choice of which I decided. Within books, I sought solace, confiding in my chosen family. No friends were as loyal as these two cherished companions. 

I did not desire a mediocre life; I wanted to drown in my yearning, my hope, my dream. 

Yet, even amid these blissful musings, flight is impossible without a sprinkle of fairy dust.

I wish I braced a warning of some sort: that one day, I’d've experienced the last dream of my soul. People perceive what they desire, and when my very own Tinkerbell shone with resplendent radiance, my existence, my individuality became a perilous threat. I was rare, so was Wendy, so are we all. Only so few choose to recognize it. I knew, I pledged to embrace it. The ignorant did not comply, not them, not my tink, so the few were forced to suffer. We’re all celestial sylphs, causing cosmic warfare amidst the moon's bloodied skies. We’re all supernovas. 

I passed this wavering path; the one that attempted to strip me of my individuality. That morning I woke up and realized opinions were a dime a dozen, validation was something I needn't thrive in, and loyalty isn't a word but a lifestyle that too many fail to follow. That was the day both our lives changed, not for a man or a job, but because both Wendy and I knew our happiness was worth more when it resided in our own hands. 

So Wendy left. Yes, Peter cried; yes, the lost boys whined. This world shamed her for thriving in her definition of ‘joy’. She did not fall captive to motherhood but escaped from the cages of others' joy. One day I'll find my calling, just as Wendy did. 

Through hatred, mermaids, and the treacherous Hook, Wendy acquired her fairy dust. After a voyage of a lifetime, she found solace back home, amidst family and books. Forever adorned with ethereal fairy dust, I stand in that realm, here and now, ready to embark on my own extraordinary journey. 

“What if you fall? Oh darling, what if you fly?”