Growing up is not for me. I have a severe case of what I call “Peter Pan syndrome.” Of course I will take on my adult responsibilities, and use my adult privileges, but actually admit that I am an adult? Never.
I could relate to Torgovnick in the beginning of her story. My room is a mess of papers, clothes, and make-up products. My sheets are falling off the sides of my bed. Like Torgovnick, organization is not one of my primary skills. I could relate to her, her young mindset; but then she grew up.
It is a simple task, but it defines her growth and her transformation into adulthood. In this past year, I have felt significantly older, but by no means have I reached adulthood, and to be honest I am not too keen to. I like my childhood imagination, I enjoy appreciating the simplicity of life, I like feeling reckless and spontaneous. I do not want to let go of my Neverland. In fact, if I have to sacrifice Neverland for adulthood, I will take Neverland.
I notice the fact that my priorities have shifted, that my definition of drama has drastically changed, my plans for the future have become more real. I also notice that fairies still line my walls in my room, my favorite color is still pink, I own coloring books, I sleep with BoBo (my raggedy childhood bunny), I have a tutu, I have fairy wings, and my make-up case contains unnecessary amounts of childhood glitter.
Torgovnick grew up, and she realized it one morning as she made her bed.
“I won’t grow up, I don’t want to wear a tie, or a serious expression in the middle of July, I won’t grow up,” said Peter Pan. Me neither, Peter, me neither.
