PETER PAN IS DEAD

In the movie, "Finding Neverland", Johnny Depp's character JM Barrie, creator of Peter Pan, and his wife are in a hallway seperating for the evening. She goes through her bedroom door, behind it elaborate bedding and furniture. Barrie goes into his, and you briefly see a sunny sky, trees, and birds in a beautiful, fantastical glimpse of scenery.

Barrie's imagination, yes?

I identified with that scene more than any other movie scene in my life. I know that feeling. I see children, and people who roll their eyes at those "silly" kids. They are allowed to be silly, though. Because they're smaller and haven't grown up yet. I never understood that logic.

As an adult, if you take care of your responsibilities, are you not allowed to be as a child? Are you not allowed to be "silly"?

Obviously not.

I don't fit in at work. In 18 years of production work, I never have. I'm from the damn moon with these people. I've always felt what we were looking at in the factory environment was being taken way too seriously. Do I do my job? Yes. Does it consume me? No.

Therefore, I'm the outcast, oddball, and I've been told so. I need to grow up. I need to "deal with anxiety" better. I'm "chatty".

Make no mistake, I've had my depressed and crabby moments in my life. Always have. But I'd always been able to see an ember in that dying pile of coals that was my life, one glowing hard enough to spark an interest in something, anything that would bring out, albeit maybe temporarily, my boyish glee.

I've always been obsessed with laughter. Feeling it, drawing it out from others. Laughter is the closest thing to love without actually being it.

These factors were all part of what I called my "Peter Pan Element".

The shadows are all catching up with me, the monstrosity known as "maturity" is hunting me down like something out of "Jumanji".

The Element is dying. It's Dying fast.