"Amo quello che il tempo ci porta,
non quello che ci prende.”
- Marguerite Yourcenar
April was too lonely a month to spend alone. In April, everyone around me looked happy. People would throw their coats off and enjoy each other’s company in the sunshine—talking, playing catch, holding hands. But I was always by myself.
The thing about Peter Pan is, bey, he’s a coward. He had the chance of a lifetime and he bottled it.
Just fucked off back to Neverland. All alone, forever he was, by his own hand.
Poor old Wendy, she had to grow old without him.
Fucking tragedy if you ask me.