Peter Isn't On This List Because He Doesn't Really Exist

These are those who thought they were enough:

THE BOY

You are both sweet and obnoxious at the same time.  You smell like dirt and your face reminds me of a lizard.  You have as many freckles as I can count, and you spit when you say words that contain the letter P.  However, I still have that little alligator figurine you gave to me on Valentine's Day.  You made me very ashamed for most of my life, and I know that you hate me for pretending you weren't mine.  Please don't think of this as an apology, though, because I know that you held hands with Marissa Clementi on Thursdays.  

THE KID

You freak me out a little bit.  Your hands sweat when I so much as glance in your direction, and you chew your food way too loudly.  I admire your dedication to Christianity, but your "text prayers" are just strange.  God can hear you when you speak, you don't have to text him.  You thought I was mean for telling you to date other people, and you're right.  That was mean.  You bored me.  I had run out of questions to ask you, and I was starting to repeat them.  And you didn't even notice.  You just wanted to see my name light up on your phone, and I was eager to erase yours.  Honestly, the only thing we had in common was that our desperation was matched in severity.

THE FRIEND

You weren't afraid of singing in public, and you wore fingerless gloves just because you could.  You had a yellow backpack, which was very easy to spot in the crowded hallways, and you would always say hello, which was nice. You said that cats were your favorite animal, and I still liked you after that.  You told me stories about living in New Mexico, but you could never remember the capital.   And when you touched my arm, I felt it for days after.  You made me believe in love, and I hate you for that.  Because you never really looked at me the same way my dad looks at my mom, and you didn't ask me to Prom.  You left me sooner than you came, and it took me twice that to forget your middle name.  Maybe someday I'll be able to forget the rest.

THE MAN

You have a goofy face.  You do.  It's very angular and sharp, but you wear it well.  You were so much taller than me, I mostly didn't know where to look when we spoke.  I only saw you once in a while, but it was all I ever looked forward to.  You made things exciting and you were clever and charming in a way that was too forwards sometimes, but I liked that.  I liked that you would kiss my hand when I walked into the room, and I liked that you always told me I was beautiful.  There isn't much I have to say to you.  Except maybe that I wish we had had more time.  But even with that being said, I don't regret anything.  I don't miss you.  I don't want you.  You were nice, and so was I.  But I can be nice to someone else.  And you were being nice to other girls long before you met me.
  

THE STRANGER

You confuse me the very most.  I know many things about you, but I still don't know how to make you laugh, and I still don't know how to catch your eye when we sit in silence in the back seat of the taxi in the rain.  I appreciate you way too much to have a regular conversation with you, and I just don't deserve you in all of your complexity and perfection.  Still, I know that I could very easily fall in love with you.   Mathematically, you and I are made for each other.  But I've always been terrible at math. 

THE BOSS

You think like a man, even though you don't act like one.  You make really bad jokes, but I laugh at them anyways.  And when you talk to me you always say one bad thing about me, and two good things.  You have small legs and small arms and large hands, and you ride a motorcycle because some guy told you once that you're inadequate.  I find myself always running your errands, and sticking around longer than I should.  I want your approval, but I can't stand your company.  You never liked me in a romantic way, and I am glad for that.  But you do want to buy me pants.  And I'm proud to say that I'll never accept them.  

"Wendy: Sir, you are both ungallant and deficient.

Peter: How am I deficient?

Wendy: You're just a boy."

--J.M. Barrie