I'll teach you to ride on the wind's back.

So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land!

In philosophy class my teacher once quoted that to truly live with presence, you must act with the seriousness of a child at play. Analyzing this further, I sympathized. A child is born with unfathomable curiosity and wonder, not to mention genuine appreciation for the world around it. I also characterize this with the song, "I Hope You Dance" by Lee Anne Womack. I am capable of seeing, unfortunately, that a person's character is almost fully affected by socialization not only by society and its pressures (i.e. peer pressure, prejudice) but also by parents. One of the most interesting first moments I had in that same philosophy class is this scenario my teacher created:
He said, "If you have the pleasure of knowing a child that is two years old or less, listen to the questions they ask. Say one were to ask their parent, 'What is green?' Now suppose the parent turns to the wall of their living room, which is painted green, and point. 'That is green.' It is clear that the adult is able to comprehend that it is not the WALL that is green, but the color itself. They couldn't very well point at a color, so the translation is up to the child and will inevitably lead to more questions."
This scenario both amused and enthralled me very much, so much so that I took a moment to close my eyes and smile at simple recollections of coloring a cow purple as a child. Thankfully, the beauty of art is that I had no art teacher at my shoulder, criticizing my choice to color. Art isn't about the normal black and white terms, it is about the freedom of exploration and experimentation. The same can be said of philosophy and questions. True, sometimes the questions that have no solid answer or foundation may be challenged, but the beauty of the human mind is we have the ability to ponder, to analyze, and most of all to dream and imagine.
Over time socialization has created a predictable path: birth, school, college/ career, marriage, offspring, and helping that offspring continue the process as you live out the rest of your days. Fortunately (and especially in America) we possess the right to be individuals, so every life is important and has a unique story to share.
I have always loved stories, and I suppose that is why I find the tale of Peter Pan so down-right enchanting. It is not enough to say that you've seen the Disney film, and even taking a look into the life of author J.M. Barrie through the movie Finding Neverland is not satisfiable. Upon finishing the original work, my thoughts were so happy I could have ascended into the heavens and laughed with the stars. I feel such a deep connection with both the story and the author (the original Peter Pan) because for as long as I can remember my personality has adapted a childlike exterior. It's not only a matter of "looking young", it's a matter of despite growing up I still hold on to my inner child. I ask questions, my enthusiasm is not bottled, and like a child I am enormously optimistic while I remain in-the-moment. I love to dream towards the future, but I do not over fantasize or stress. I especially do not strain or wallow in the past, unless I'm reflecting on happy memories that I'm enjoying so much that I must squeeze every bit of ecstasy from them before I continue with my usual day-to-day.
Nevertheless, I implore anyone who stumbles upon this to read the original work of Peter Pan by dearest J.M. Barrie. I am confident that even if you do not it is a timeless tale that will last forever in the hearts of children (yes, even that faint sparkle in most adults will keep it alive as long as they remain innocent). Otherwise hold on to childishness, it's all in good fun and will only prove good for you.

My window will remain open for him and his adventures.
You too, Tink.

shatter.

A heart can be many things in terms of love. I give you my heart and it may seem naive, exposing a delicate layer of my endearments as soft as your palm pressed to my face. I look at it as taking a chance, genuinely believing you are positively wonderful and wishing you find me mutually fantastic. It is the confidence that I can see only you ahead of me because you cause the edges of my peripherals to blur where no other bystander phases me. You magnificent, lucky person! I see every cute sunspot and every annoying mannerism, and along the way I've finally reached that point where I've stopped trying to change you. Really, I don't need to when I accept and love every bit of you. My heart has been delivered to you in fragments; hesitant at first, but joyously showered upon you over a year's time.
I apologize that my heart's original condition was meek, but it warmed up to you. You've helped me mature, but my heart loves you with the enthusiasm and happiness of a child still amazed by the world around it. Be gentle, be cautious, and handle with care. Those were my pleas.
I didn't realize how my heart would change. The first time our relationship was tested, my heart felt hollow to the touch with no substance. Fortunately the situation called for me to make a decision, and I chose to sympathize. My heart outstretched earnestly, missing the feelings of being whole. The months that followed we spent more time together than ever, and my heart was overjoyed by the company of constant contentment. I thought I'd seen the worst, but I was mistaken.
The words "you broke my heart" should never be taken lightly.
A person cannot utter such a thing without truly fathoming its depth.

Recently, we were tested once again and the truth was what set me in flames.
No it wasn't anger. Actually, my definition of a broken heart isn't translated in fire.
I stood still and all I could do was remember to breathe.
The intake of oxygen clung to my heart in an icy chill, freezing it solid.
With every word I felt my skin unraveling.
I felt tiny fragments of my heart chipping.
They fell and splintered my other organs, and blood drained.
....What I choked up were tears. Lots of them.
And then the emptiness settled in.
The wretched, agonizing pain of feeling a part of you is lost.
That is what heartbreak feels like....to me.