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It’s Time the Butterfly Learned to Walk

Often, due to XYZ reason we tend to give in to the decisions that others force upon us. Either we can accept to crib about it or we can do what this Butterfly did. Read away!

“And quietly she removed the colors in her wings, the blues, the yellows, and her favorite greens, she asked if she could keep the dreams, nonetheless, at least she has a memory of them.”

Pay attention to a butterfly next time carefully landing herself on the best of the fragrant flowers and drenching her throat with their sweetest nectar. But ever wondered what does she do after tasting them? Does she also turn productive like bees or does she only loves to hop from one to another until she is fully satisfied?

Let’s not google the facts and tint our minds here for once.

“Why can’t she be happy with one flower?” asked one of the fictional characters in the story.

“She should be satisfied with what she has because her wings are surely going to wither away or wear off with unnecessary flights like these.” Said a far-sighted opinionated character.

“Shouldn’t we go confront her and warn about it?” asked one of the highly concerned folks.

“Warning? Huh! Her wings are important assets to the entire clan. The colors that she is proudly adorning right now, if fade, will bring nothing but humiliation to other butterflies. We cannot let this happen in our full consciousness.” said one of the self-claimed ambassador of the winged clan.

The minions of morality decided to force a full stop to the entire matter. They called the butterfly and had her understand that the wings she is relentlessly exhibiting around are directly proportional to the honor of the clan and nobody messes around with that. She needs to be tied to the laws of the winged society.

“But how will I fly?” asked the gullible winged creature innocently.

“You don’t need to. You know, it gets dangerous for butterflies to get an addiction to wings. You probably don’t know but it was just a temporary arrangement in your life. You were not born with it, don’t you remember?” replied one of the concerned ones.

The butterfly could not process his last statement in her mind. It sounded like the truth so enduringly bitter that ironically she began to crave for the sweetest juices of the flowers to at least touch the tip of her tongue.

The butterfly got her wings tied together with a ribbon. She got to pick its color, at least. “Lucky her”, said the other butterflies swelled with jealousy.

Ask her how did the first walk of obligation feel like? But first, give her time to process the details and heal from the trauma.

Reader, I assure you that I am not in tears. I anticipated this since childhood — I know what happens to your wings when they begin to display bold colors.

Butterfly, won’t you miss flying?

“You are not looking at the big picture here. When my wings took their very first flight, I was able to fly up to the biggest flower in the garden. There, I bumped into a feeling that would give me a purpose in the time to come.”

Butterfly, oh dear butterfly, I have heard that they have beauty pageants for the ones who are strikingly beautiful and wish to adopt a purpose. You may find a new purpose to chase after. Would you want to participate? Now that you don’t have wings, might as well make use of your rusty legs to walk down the ramp in a bikini.

“Do they build those ramps on the flowers?”

Butterfly, you must make peace with your past now. That’s what anybody in your position would do. A sudden loss of individuality seems like an apocalypse but with time you will positively learn how to love what you have instead of craving for what you had.

“You make it sound like I do not have an option.”

My little winged friend, tonight when you block out the world to sleep and see yourself walking with wobbly knees — dream of the places with the biggest flowers and the sweetest juices you could acquaint yourself with, but beware, do not befriend them. ‘coz dreams do not last a day, they corrupt you and disappear. Weren’t you ever in love?

“Reader, you are diverging. This has nothing to do with me falling in love or taking lovers. Being able to land on the biggest and faraway flowers efficiently gave me sheer happiness and I was able to carry the sweetest juices back home to my folks. But when you are good at what you do, you tend to overdo it.”

Butterfly, your greed to experience too much happiness in a short period of time costed you your wings. The clan did whatever they felt was utmost necessary. You should know this — you only have yourself to be blamed.

“When the clock starts to tick faster than your heartbeat, you cannot afford prudence to stop you for a sermon.”

"I do not understand."

“I do not expect you to.”

Butterfly, what are you going to do now?

“Reader, I’m going for a walk and might as well say hello to my darling flowers.”

Do not do this. Imagine when you won’t be able to reach them because of the height, you’ll only fall back into a reverberating loop of disappointment.

“Thank you for your words of concern and although they reflect of wisdom, you, on the other hand, are like water.

You are shapeless — you adapt in whatever shape you’re poured into.

You are directionless — you flow in the paths others carve for you.

You are colorless — you let others dilute you with their hues.

But I am not you.”

Butterfly, save your analogies for the walks down the garden, gazing at your flowers from a distance and feeling helpless.

“Walk? You’re gullible!”

When one door closes, a new window opens up. Of course, it brings its own set of challenges and test your determination. This, my friends, the butterfly knew better. She may not have been able to take a stand or fight against the injustice, but she was smart.

She learned to walk, only to run faster and jump the highest to reach the flowers.

“Don’t you ever miss your wings?”

The Butterfly laughed.

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