So there I was, catching falling stars on my bed one night and contemplating on my longest ever crush on Peter Pan. Maybe if he were for real (and if dogs could really fly) I could too, if only I didn't know that while I believed so much on fairies, my fairies never did believe in me. I could not blame them; I never really took off the galaxies stuffed in my pockets, and I kept on catching more falling stars than I could hold in my hands. They must have thought that it was this weight that kept me anchored to the ground.
I found pixie dust sprinkled inside my shoes, when I finally got off the bed. Only I didn't get that magical feeling in the movies, (the room did not echo "you can fly, you can fly!" ) It stung my feet instead, like when you sit on your leg for too long, stung my feet like having that funny bone on your elbow hit by the classroom chair. I liked wearing them anyway, for it reminded me of Peter Pan (and have I mentioned that I had the longest crush on him?) and I thought maybe if I wore these pixie shoes, by some good fairytale karma, he would appear. Even though it stung. (Even though I didn't know yet that later on, it will bleed.)
Anyway I always kept my needles ready, just in case he drops by searching for his shadow.
So then my window flew open, as I watched in awe as the second star to the right shone brighter and brighter, I ran to the sill and stood on the roof thinking of what it's like, face to face with your most elusive dream - must have been that same feeling in the wax museum when you're face to face with hollywood stars, only better. (as I have never really found wax a legitimate substitute for human beings - wax hands are too slippery to hold.) Peter Pan was more than a Michael Jackson. Heck, Peter Pan was far greater to me then even Elvis.
I felt afloat. My feet began to leave the roof tiles - I was going to fly! I gave it one huge leap of faith, and I drifted into the endless sky. (And for the first time ever, like that cow in the nursery rhyme, I finally understood how it felt to jump over the moon)
I didn't stay there for long though. Next thing I knew I was being pulled hard into the earth, plunging into the darkness underneath me. Down down down down down down
It was a seemingly endless fall. How high have I really been? Down, down, down.
Down, down, down, I couldn't have crashed harder. The moment I hit the ground I felt my bones dig themselves into my other bones, and the stars that I have held so dearly in these pockets fell all over the place, dug themselves into my skin.
I had legitimate reasons to cry then, only I figured that crying is not as much fun as laughing, And so I did. And all of a sudden I realized that it takes more than pixie dust to fly.
And while I thought that my fairies never did believe in me, I felt myself begin to rise.
(I never found my Peter, but who am I to protest now that I'm in Neverland?)


