I have been doing all of thinking and reflecting on myself lately. Call it a midlife crisis or boredom, either way I'm researching why I always follow in some ways the same patterns over and over. Some people make mistakes and learn from them, I just learn that I make mistakes and I deliberately repeat them.
It is proven that some men suffer from the Peter Pan complex. Such men refuse to grow up and manage to always look younger and behave as kids, just like in the tale by J.M. Barrie. Why am I talking about this? Last week I was actually watching some modern Peter Pan feature film on TV. While watching it, I felt that magic I use to feel every time my mom would read to me that tale. It is one of my favorite stories from my childhood. I liked it so much, that I would imagine myself packing a little bundle of clothes and having to leave to go to a beautiful magic place where everyone was young and never, ever had to grow up.
Since I watched the movie I started to list the men I've loved, the friends I surround myself by, the activities I choose to do on my time off... I was honestly not surprise by my own verdict. All the men always had the boyish look and the behavior of a teenager, all my friends are either younger than me or they have managed to maintain that child humor, and to top it all I still go to clubs and climb trees?! Shouldn't I feel too old for it? But I don't! In my head I'm still 18, I'm still learning, I'm still growing, I'm still dreaming! But most of anything I'm refusing to grow up!
What is the main symptom? Being attracted... (or shall I say addicted?) to men who suffer for the Peter Pan's complex. Therefore I must I have some sort of complex myself, that I would like to name "The Tinkerbell Complex": someone who gets obsessed and addicted to anything that resemble beauty, fun, and youth. Should I be concerned? Why should I? I find it to be a very entertaining way of living. This must be why I keep my feelings of love sometime so secret, because it remains in a magic hidden place where disappointment and reality does not exist, in a fantasy dimension where rejection is not allowed. Tinkerbell didn't even speak, she had attitude and quite the temper... but she never spoke.
Unlike her, here I am blogging away and typing my random thoughts all over the online universe.
Goodnight, I must go now, back to my tree house with my lightening bugs.
