When Peter didn't come back the following summer, here's what I think Wendy wrote to him.
I want to punch you in the face.
I want to kick you.
I want to scratch your eyes out so you never look at me that way again.
I want to knee you in the balls.
I want to slap you.
I want to kiss you.
I want to hold your hand.
I want to stroke your hair and tell you everything is going to be alright.
I want to make you laugh.
I want to laugh at you.
I want to scream at you.
I want to swear at you.
I want to slip my arms round your waist.
I want to hear you talk to me.
I want to argue with you.
I want to kick you in the kneecaps.
I want to go on long adventures and get lost with you.
I want to have sex on the beach and whinge when sand gets in my hair.
I want to giggle with you.
I want to roll my eyes at you.
I want to play with your hair.
I want to have you stroke my hair.
I want to pull your hair.
I want to bite you.
I want to hold you.
I want to fly away with you.
I want to stop crying over you. I want to think about how strong and independent I am. I want to ignore the tightness in my chest. I want to think about other things. I want to be able to enjoy other things. I want to enjoy those things with you. I want you to give me a break. I want you to be more understanding. I want so many things but I don't know which path I'm going down and I don't know if I have any choice about that.
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