Un Peter Pan perdut al Segle XXI: Sisè capítol

Sisè capítol

A vegades les coses en les que creiem deixen d'existir o bé, potser som nosaltres que deixem d'existir d'aquella manera determinada. Canviem, creixem, aprenem i aconseguim visualitzar els esdeveniments passats de maneres distintes, maneres que ens permeten desfer-nos del vel que ens cobreix els ulls i no ens deixa veure més enllà dels nostres somnis i esperances.

Doncs bé, em disposo a fer una confessió. Vull que entengueu per què aquest relat rep el nom d'Un Peter Pan perdut al Segle XXI i no qualsevol altre. Veureu, estimats lectors, quan era petita i, (si he de ser sincera, encara ara) la meva pel·lícula preferida era Peter Pan i la Gran Aventura, no sé si l'haureu vista però és aquella en que els personatges són actors de carn i óssos i no dibuixos animats, on el famós Peter Pan se n'adona que no pot estimar perquè es veu incapaç de créixer i que, alhora, l'invencible poder d'estimar és allò que el fa reviure quan tot sembla perdut. És una antilogia que posa al personatge entre l'espasa i la paret. Deixar enrere les seves fantàstiques aventures per esdevenir un individu capaç d'estimar i tocar de peus a terra. Deixar enrere la màgia que envolta la infància per a ser al costat de la seva estimada Wendy. Tots sabem el desenllaç de la història. Ell ho entén, rep el petó màgic i venç al seu temut antagonista gràcies a la força de l'"amor". És bonic, és tendre i sembla versemblant però, al cap i a la fi, quan ja ha obert els ulls i veu tot allò que haurà de deixar enrere per deixar de ser en Peter Pan, decideix quedar-se, fer una passa enrere i quedar-se estancat a la illa de Mai Més, on tot és possible i les pors són purament surrealistes. Així doncs, en Peter Pan, per molt valent que pugui semblar, és un covard. Un covard de cap a peus que deixa marxar la propietària d'aquell petó màgic, que li dóna la vida quan tot és fosc, per seguir sent un nen. Un nen. I res més. I aquesta és la gran similitud que sempre he vist en aquesta història. Tot ha quedat resumit a una sèrie d'actes totalment guiats per la covardia. I no dic que tot fos perfecte ni fàcil ni bonic. No dic que la protagonista no s'equivoqués i clavés la primera estaca dins el relat. És cert, la por la va vèncer i, per una nit, va permetre que la seva flama s'encengués i cremés ponts que tant curosament havia construït. Però tot i així, va voler lluitar per reconstruir-los i per reforçar-los. Ningú podria dir que no ho va intentar perquè s'hi va deixar el cor i l'ànima i mai li van ser retornats. I per això va marxar sola, perquè ell no va ser capaç de lluitar, perquè la por a enfrontar-se a noves pors, nous sentiments i nous riscs el van acovardir massa. I va deixar que tot es trenqués. Tant se val les promeses que hagués fet, les paraules que hagués pronunciat des del més profund del seu ser. Al final, per al meu Peter Pan, tot va ser tant fàcil com fer un parell de passes enrere i enviar-ho tot a prendre pel cul. I deixar que ella es consumís dins el seu lament i la seva infundada culpabilitat. Malgrat això, ella ho recorda tot: cada petó; cada adéu; cada carícia; cada sopar; cada pel·lícula que van veure junts; cada moment de complicitat; cada sorpresa i cada repte. Ho recorda tot amb massa amor i, alhora, amb massa recel i, per això, voldria oblidar-ho. Per això ha decidit posar fi a aquest relat. Ha decidit que no val la pena explicar una història si un dels protagonistes ni tan sols hi creu. Si un dels personatges ho considera una mentida. Una estúpida i irrellevant mentida.

Així doncs, jo, Alessia Garnet, poso fi a aquest relat i entrego el sisè i darrer capítol del que havia de ser un bonic drama. Perdoneu la decepció, perdoneu la tardança i perdoneu les il·lusions frustrades però és el que té haver-se enamorat d'un Peter Pan perdut al Segle XXI i no hi ha més a dir o fer. Només desitjo que algun dia, decideixi créixer, decideixi ensenyar al món el munt de coses bones i precioses que té a oferir i que es tregui, d'una maleïda vegada, aquest trist complexe de Peter Pan.

Alessia Garnet.

Time and Distance and Screw You.

No. Of course not. You can not come and pretend everything is all right. You don't even get the right to talk to me. Who the hell do you believe you are? You don't have the chance to hurt me every time you feel bored, fucking realise I'm not a stupid silly doll. Hasn't it been enough by now? Haven't you found pleasure enough in breaking me from upside down all of these times? Oh my god. Just tell me, what is so wrong with you? What is this unquenchable thirst of yours for opening my wounds once after another? I am just sick of cultivating and cultivating hopes and illusions just so you can smash them and sweep the floor with them when you're done. I mean, all of the memories already hurt too much, you don't need to light them up again. Actually, I beg you not to. I don't want to remember when you took me to that surprise date and brought me to a panoramic o.v. cinema to watch my favourite movie after inviting me to that amazing Japanese restaurant. I don't want to remember when we kissed that night of December in front of our iced cold sea while the stars were watching and the timing was right. I don't want to remember when I took you to that Jazz restaurant to show you how worth you were to me. I don't want to remember that night at my house, with the wine and our sweet and sincere words. I don't want to remember anything of that. Not one single memoir that we built together because, after all, you probed to me they were all nothing but lies. shameful pretty lies. You showed me your real You and you broke our whole world into countless and infinite tiny pieces that will never come together again. And I hate you for it. So I want to forget, so I want all of this to stop hurting this bad. I don't want to be any more afraid of getting to know someone that I might actually end up liking, because you made me stop believing in people. You made me stop believing in that I could be understood, that I could be taken care of. That I could somehow make it work with someone. I did open my heart to you. Even my soul I handled to you and all you did was just ignore it. So thanks for that part, I guess that at least that made me stronger. Thanks for being such a coward, that made me braver. Thanks for showing me how ruin can a person get to be, that made me more realistic. All in all, as I see it now, I'm not sure rather I would have to hate you or either be grateful to you. You made me hazardous at the same time that you destroyed me so, maybe, after all, it's something you did partly right. Now I can distinguish cowards like you from a further distance and, furthermore, I know how to shut them down before they start talking bullshit as you did the first time we met. Yeah, by the way, try changing your flirting strategies, they suck as hell.With that said, yes, it's probably obvious I'm still not over you but, at least, I do not long for the shitty fake version of you with which I felt so deeply in love.
Luckily, with distance and time you will end up becoming a blurring point in the horizon.

Alessia Garnet

Holly-Land

Sometimes we believe we know ourselves, that we know where we come from or where we're going. But that's mostly it. Us believing it. Nothing else. And then, when you realise it, only beauty is left.

And there would be no more pleasure in any other part of the world or any other moment in history. This is it. Myself. Here. In. Deventer. This sweet and cosy city, lost somewhere around this beautiful flatland that is Holland, where all of the buildings seem to welcome me into their insides with its modest and, at the same time, enchanting facades with flowers and decorations in its open and huge windows. With the warmness in the smiles of its inhabitants and the bikes perfectly posing in their front doors. Because here there is no place for cars or disturbing noises, only for quietness and peacefulness and somehow, this candy and fresh scent, gets inside your bones and breathes you in without even noticing. I would say it is a harmless place and, at the same time, a painful one. Controversial for two main reasons: the green and the rain. On one side, it makes you fall in love with its utterly greenish landscapes, its lakes, its weeping willows caressing the water surfaces, its colourful flowers and its natural grace but, on the other side, it makes you hate the natural force that gives them place, this timid rain falling constantly over all of this land, kissing everything that lies beneath her kingdom with the coldness of the ice, creating a huge curtain that surrounds your soul wherever you go. But this is its home, you know, this is what makes this place perfect. The worst you can find is the rain, and indeed, rain is as flawless as a diamond if you learn to watch her closely.
Two weeks by now and I'm already in love. Can't wait to see more.

Alessia Garnet