When you were young, you took advantage of your mother's work and quietly took out her cosmetics and applied it to your face in the same way. You like that lipstick the most. Because of it, your mother's lips have become beautiful flowers. You pouted and painted colors carefully, satisfied. Put your feet into the 37-size high heels, try to keep your balance, and imagine that you are surrounded by gentlemen under your skirts. There is cute Mickey on your skirt.
All day long, you are immersed in this game, eager to grow up in a flash.
So you tried your best to follow the unstoppable time, and slowly became a yearning adult, rushing to socialize, starting a set of high-end skin care products, and taking your children to see that they yawned countlessly in the middle of joy and didn’t understand them. What is the "strange seed and strange flower" that is shouting in his mouth. You start to miss the cartoons and dolls that accompanied you when you were young. You like the blue civet-shaped robot but can't think of its name. You think it would be nice if you didn't grow up.
People are like this, looking at the missing, thinking about the lost. But what is lost is far more precious than what is not gained. Those vivid past moments remind you, like a feather that touches your heart, a subtle itch that cannot be ignored.
That day, you had a dream. In the dream, you were holding a plush doll that you loved when you were 8 years old. A boy appeared from behind the curtains and whispered in his ear that he was Peter Pan, with his hips akimbo. Laughing room is shining brightly, you see him jumping out of the window and flying into the night, and the elves around him cast a little light. The amazing thing is that you know how to find him, turn right at the second intersection, like a secret you know by nature. You ran so heartily until you flew up. You flew past soft and thick pink-blue clouds and saw the mermaid singing against the moonlight. You grabbed Peter Pan’s ankle, and the two fell on the grass. Knocked. You two danced together and rose into the air on the leaves. He even invited you to live in Neverland for a long time. You almost promised, but for some reason you suddenly remembered the approval that was not completed last night, and fell heavily.
You wake up, get up and take a drink, licking your lips as if there is still a trace of sweetness in your dreams, after a long aftertaste, but you have long passed the age of loving sweets.
The next day, the child who had just grown little tiger teeth asked excitedly if you could stay up all night waiting for Santa Claus. You wondered how many elves in the world turned into dust because of your disbelief, and then you laughed at your childishness.
Peter Pan, he really exists, and he exists with his little elves, but he has to endure all the children flying and playing with him to forget him, watching their rough palms stop stroking the unicorns but holding them Wine glasses, seeing that their no longer tender feet are not barely touching the ground but cowardly relying on shoes. He remembers the names of every child he once had, and when he missed them, he picked one night to walk into his dream and plan to escape with them.
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