The year I killed peter pan
Beyond all springesque clichés of the year, it’s been one of deep realisations, reflections and much age coming. The year neverland wasn’t just left but taken down altogether. The show was over and life took over. It was an ugly year too where we all had to confront the uglies and cowards inside and slay them, if we could only will ourselves to be so just and cruel.
I cried a lot this year… maybe it was my prescribed spectacles. I sighed a lot this year… maybe it was all the animism that travelled through me. I also laughed and smiled and met wonderful people. Some of you know who you are because you’ve seen your effects on me. Some of you know who you are because I just had to tell you. Some of you don’t and you are the truly beautiful ones.
I ached for much this year... disoriented and disarmed, I was at once numb and fleshed. This feeling left me in a state of suspended time and space.
Fierce and bloody, this year was real with all its triumph and tragedy. I endeavoured to capture the essence of what had passed... an impossible task that I may never cease to attempt. It is my most glorious failure that requires me to be at once hopeless and ever attempting, a purgatorial nirvana if you may.
This year I learned again that I was not who I was sure I was the year before. I am glad for all the years and all the lessons.
This year I was disappointed by those I once disappointed but guessed it was only fair; a year where I paid back long overdues.
This is the year I killed peter pan and left neverland to metaland.
I see gravel ahead. Real gravel.