Peter Pan

So apparently I am a Peter Pan. It actually checks out pretty nicely. I was a precocious child. I was a high achiever, at least academically. I am non-committal. I am a daydreamer. I am keeping my options open, not committing to anything, not realizing any of the potential life I may have. And being Peter Pan is killing me. The worst thing I felt when I learned about this is that the traits that define who I am, the traits that I am most proud of, are not really me but more like symptoms of a disease. It is similar to a story of two people falling in love, only to find out that they had parasites in their brains. The parasites reproduced by making their hosts mate with each other. So they were not really loving each other. It was just that the parasites manipulated the hormones inside their brains so that they couldn't help feeling in love, eventually having sex and help the parasites reproduce. Similarly, I am nothing but a vessel for this parasitic soul of Peter Pan. There are two…