Chasing Paris

i. I hope you like puzzles. Did you play them as a child? I wish you had, so your knobs won’t have to adjust. Or if you never did, it’s okay. I think everyday is sufficient enough to learn. Everyday is a puzzle with me. I hope I do not become responsible for the burden of your frustrations or your frowns. I hope I never hear you sigh with the dread of the world. I hope you solve me everyday.

ii. I hope Scrabble doesn’t bore you. I hope you like words. I hope you feel the need to beat me in this game. I hope you will challenge me. In fact, I hope you defeat me. I hope my eyes never see you settle for ten points, I hope to see you thrive. Tell me that you care. Tell me that you love me in words that score twice as much as mine.

iii. I hope you don’t think of this as a chore. But I can be a mess. Literally, figuratively, actually. You can do two things: you can clean up after me, or you can be a mess with me. I’m not sure which one I like better during that day, because I’m moody; I hope you know me enough to know what to do when things get bad.

iv. I hope you read every single word. I hope you didn’t skip to the end. If we will be together, I will be ranting. More than you would like me to and more than what I think is healthy. But I would like you to listen, even if I’m not making sense, even if I become boring, and most especially if I’m making a fool out of myself.

v. I hope you’re not a fictional character. I hope you’re real and alive and breathing. You may be with someone else now. But time will come. In God’s perfect time.


Most days, I want to be the snow.
Other days, I want to be the sun.
Whatever day, the snow and sun is yours.


the deeper the night becomes,
the harder it is to trust the mirrors.
some nights, I race back
to catch my reflection in the act;
half expectant that it will blink
or scowl or reach for my head.
But I always see the same girl,
with the same features as me,
that smiles when I do
and I can never catch blink;
I see the same girl that is me
but not quite,
and that scares me even more.


What is it that is happy about endings? How can you be happy when it is the end? It’s plain and simple: you’d be dead. It won’t be sad. It won’t be happy. It won’t be anything. You will feel nothing.


Tonight, I just watched The Rise of the Guardian for the nth time. God, it feels like it’s my first every single time. So, lo and behold: (If you watched the movie, you’ll get this)

Has anybody ever thought that Happy Ever After never worked out, because we never gave it a chance? Has anybody ever thought that the only reason Happy Ever After ceased to exist is because halfway through the stories, and when it gets bad, we decide to close the book and never make it to the end?

One bad chapter does not mean a bad story, or a sad ending for that matter.

Like Santa Claus, and the Sand Man, and Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, and Jack Frost, Happy Ever After, too, is a guardian; the only way you could see him is if you believed in him. To witness him, you have to know deep in your heart that he exists. Through the years, the swarm of believers have become less and less, and more turned against him for false hopes. And the more we hesitated to give our stories to him, the less his arms could reach. The more we fed ourselves with the knowledge that he doesn’t exist, the less words his ink can write on the paper of our lives.

The Boogy Man wanted this. He turned the breaks in our hearts against us and planted stories on the scars of our bleeding hearts. I don’t know about you, but I am not going to let him win.

I believe in fairies. I believe in easter bunnies. And Santa Clause. And I believe in my dreams. More importantly, I believe in fairytales. And Happy Ever After. I believe in Happy Ever After. I do, I do. Say it with me. I do, I do.

My name is Jamie Bennett. I also go by Peter Pan. I am the last remaining light on the globe. And I need your help. I need you to see them. I need you to conquer your fears. I need you to dream, I need you to believe. I speak in behalf of the Guardians that have walked beside you, but you brushed off; the people that wanted to make something happen, but couldn’t, because through the years, you started to doubt, because you have forgotten what it is like to be a child.

Let’s bring it back. Let’s bring back hope.

Please spread this to every possible lamp, every possible light. Let’s make the globe a tree of christmas loghts. Keep the faith. Be a guardian; protect the guardians.

Now tell me, do you believe?

I do, I do.