Chapter 7: To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people just exist, that is all
As I was walking down the hall to Rose's room, I noticed an adult woman standing in Rose's doorway. Then Rose stepped out into the hallway and I caught a glimpse of the woman's face. There was too much resemblance for this woman not to be her mother.
"Oh, Hi Henry," Rose said as she spotted me. "This is my mom."
"Hi," I told her mother, shaking her hand. "I'm Rose's friend."
"Oh, this is Henry," her mother gave Rose a grin, while the girl looked a little embarrassed. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Mom," Rose groaned in annoyance.
"Well Henry, I was about to take Rose out for lunch if you would like to join us."
"Thank-you. Sure, that would be great."
"College students aren't ones to turn down free food, I imagine."
"No, ma'am." I replied.
Rose was clearly embarrassed by the whole situation, and I enjoyed tormenting her. But I could also tell that she loved her mother and I was glad that she got to see her, even if she couldn't see her brother Sage as well. He had important marching band duties that he couldn't miss. Rose's mother also seemed to enjoy getting to meet one of her daughter's little friends, feeling more involved in her day to day life despite her being so far away. After lunch, Rose gave her mother a tour of the campus. Her mother invited me along as well, but I protested that I had homework to complete and returned to my dorm.
I did not expect to see Alexander sitting on the living room couch, talking loudly with Nate and Timmy as the three of them stared at the screen where at least one, though likely more than one, of them was playing a video game that involved lots of shooting and bloody violence.
None of them looked up to notice me.
"Hi," I tried.
"Hey" Timmy replied, not taking his eyes away from the screen. Nate and Alexander did the same.
"Oh man! Did you see that?!" Alexander called out, in a tone that sounded very Nate like but not at all Alexander like. The three of them were getting along very well. I knew Nate and Timmy had a brotherly bond that I was not quite part of, but I thought Alexander was my friend.
I tried to watch the game they were playing, but it couldn't captivate my interest like it did theirs. Finally, I went into my room.
It felt quiet despite the shooting noises that you could hear through the thin walls. I knew it wasn't a good idea to compare yourself to others, but I couldn't help it.
I could function alright in the academic world. But the social world? I thought I was doing okay. I thought Alexander would be my best friend. Guy friend, at least. But here he was, getting along better with my roommates. Maybe the people that I considered my friends saw me more as acquaintances. After all, Alexander only texted me because Nikola, his real best friend, flaked on him. But I thought we had a connection. He told me about his crush on Elliot. Maybe he was just so excited that he would have told anybody. Maybe he didn't have anyone else to talk to at the moment. Maybe he told me personal things because we weren't all that close, because I was just a buddy from class.
Maybe I was completely over reacting. I do that sometimes. Or do I? No, I definitely do.
Rose. She was my best friend. Although I hoped she would be much more.
That was my problem. I liked people more than they liked me, and as a result, I ended up feeling unwanted and worthless. I should just stop feeling, stop having emotions. Become Peter Pan.
He never cared for anyone other than himself. He had the overinflated sense of self-worth that came with childhood, and had not yet developed empathy for others.
He was free of all the troubles that came with growing up. How could he feel sad about losing friends when he couldn't even remember them, even if he did care for them.
I laughed to myself. Peter Pan fit many of the boxes on the checklist for a psychopath.
Extremely high self esteem, lack of empathy, lack of remorse.
He was guilty for murdering some of the pirates—and quite possibly some of the children—and yet he showed little remorse or regret. Although he often could hardly remember it the next day. The other lost boys never knew whether or not to believe him when he talked of his adventures, as he often made many of them up to appear more impressive to them. But he also did a great many things that he completely forgot about, his mind quick to move onto the next adventure and forget the past.
Pathological lying, need for stimulation, superficial charm.
It might be fun to never grow up, but Barrie created Peter Pan not to be envied, but pitied. He was stuck. He could never see his mother or remember his old friends. He could never care for Wendy in the way she cared for him. He didn't understand love. Perhaps because he had no one to stay and love him. Everyone else would always grow up and leave him.