Most of you have probably watched or read Peter Pan. Peter Pan is a boy from Neverland who refuses to grow up. When he meets Wendy in the ‘real world’ (whom he later falls for), he faces the option of staying there and growing up. He refuses and chooses to return to Neverland, as he wants nothing to be a kid forever. According to Wikipedia,
Peter Pan syndrome is a pop-psychology term used to describe an adult who is socially immature. The term has been used informally by both laypeople and some psychology professionals in popular psychology since the 1983 publication of The Peter Pan Syndrome: Men Who Have Never Grown Up, by Dr. Dan Kiley.
In another word (still, according to Wikipedia),
The supposed psychological phenomenon of immaturity among some men, who, like the fictional character, remain childish and fail to assume appropriate adult social roles and responsibilities.
Ever since I left my hometown for the sake of better education (duh again), I’ve been missing my childhood, more and more each time. I had a very blissful childhood in a really nice place, surrounded by great people. And then, I grow up, and suddenly, BOOM! Life doesn’t feel fun anymore. I’ve had my depression period. Of course, there are days when I feel bright. But to be honest, I never feel happier than I had been when I was a child.
I mean, isn’t it everyone’s problems? Or is it just me? I spent my childhood wishing I could grew up faster so I wouldn’t have to go to bed at nine, or do every seems-fun adult things. And by adult things, I mean like having money and spending it in any way you like it, not like a kid who’s only given never-seems-to-be-enough allowance. Or going to bed as late as you want.
And then I grow up. I live alone so my parents give me lots of money, enough to spoil myself by buying everything I want, sometimes things I don’t even need. I stay late, and sleep after the dawn breaks. Sometimes I even have sleepless nights. I get my freedom, something I’d always wanted when I was little.
I thought I would be happy.
As harsh as the truth should be, I’m not. Now that I have a glamorous adult life of my childhood dream, it’s not even close to the happiness I thought I would feel. Even worse, I’m longing for something impossible: being a child again and having my childhood back. Now that I have adult problems, being a kid seems like heaven. Nothing to worry but homework, bigger allowance, and who you would sit with at lunch. You don’t have to deal with the reality that only hits when you’re grown-up, like broken heart, people who try to bring you down, or much bigger problems like money. Compared to an adult’s life, a child’s life seems pure and heavenly.
That’s why I like reading children books or fairy tales. Because every children stories have happy endings. I feel like I need to be assured that things are going to be okay in the end, to read happy things to muster some faith that happiness is on its way, that it hasn’t come yet because now is not the right time.
I don’t ever want to grow up. I guess I’m like Peter Pan. Grown-ups have problems. I want to stay happy.
Can’t agree more.