Wendy was one of those broken, naive, people pleasers who’d been abused into forgetting we’re all made of stardust and love. Naturally, she found herself trapped in isolation, attempting to wash the dirty laundry of lost boys who’d show up at her balcony demanding selfless mothering.

Mistaking dependency for devotion, she’d let them in, one after another till the approaching sun threatened to reveal everything the cover of darkness keeps hidden. Eventually, the pixie dust wears off, our feet hit the ground and we realize the mess that was made while our head was in the clouds.

One boy, however, was determined to cling to his shadow. So much so that he spent an entire night furiously flying around her bedroom; clawing, crying, crowing, begging to possess her with his ghost. Wendy tried distracting him with firelight, food, reassurance and other warm fantasies he’d long since abandoned.

“I just want my darkness. I’ll stitch you to my flesh with a needle and thread and never let you go.”

At a decidedly sensible hour, Wendy put herself to bed because someone had to grow up, get a degree, internship, job, boss, 401k and effing dental insurance for Pete’s sake! But by all means, go have ridiculous adventures with that winged woman who’s stuck in an impossibly tiny body. She’s been trying to tell you for years she’s in love with you. But you’re too busy screaming to listen. And she’s too scared to realize it. She keeps herself small because it’s safer than the risk of opening her mouth and being humiliated.

“I love you, but I can’t be your darkness.”

For some curious reason, Pete, covered in scars from self-inflicted wounds, refused to love or leave her. He was like a deranged hummingbird, drunk on sugar water and the false protection of purgatory; indecisive, combative, erratic, terrified. He couldn’t sit still and no matter how many times he flew off, he always came back. Until…

I mean, let’s face it, pirates are bad guys. They were all once lost boys who, after decades of raping and pillaging, bare the marks of their inner beasts. Instead of surrendering to humility, they attempt to fill the emptiness with cheap substitutes. Jealous of any hint of light, they hunt lost boys and the conflicted girls who cross the line between dreams and reality, in fruitless pursuits of wholeness. We don’t recover ourselves by saving or destroying someone else. Wendy knew that but the hook, or needle, as it were, was in deep.

One pirate in particular had it in for Pete, and challenged him to a final battle. Give me what I want and I’ll go away. But what does an insatiable pirate really want? The truth is, no amount of treasure ever satisfies them. The Hook seeks annihilation of hope. He wants destruction, submission, to prove goodness wrong because it relieves him of his fear that absolute perfection might’ve been possible had he only been more lovable. Wendy thought about trying to psychoeducate him but decided giving herself a gel mani was a more productive use of her time.

So, Pete flew away one night to battle the Hook for all eternity. Wendy cleaned up the wreckage from that last fight, burnt some Palo Santo, called her therapist, and got back to manifesting her best life.~