Cacoon

I am a woman. I laugh, I cry, I feel and I know. I’m not a doll. Not a toy. I am to be respected, to be loved and to be cared for.

At times I might be fragile and emotional, but my capacity to overcome the deepest sorrows is impossible for the human nature. I can still be who I am and be three hundred of other personalities in one person. 

This is just me. I enjoy myself, how I turned out to be, how a caterpillar is waiting to have wings and be a butterfly, even though I never understood the process, of how one animal transforms in another, but this is how I imagine it the most.

Someone dreams to become something and works hard for it, then it suffers to the maximum by having to get ripped out of it’s own skin… to become something better. 

No matter how much the catterpillar thought it could do, when it has wings it will be able to go so many more places in a matter of minutes. The hourly movements as a caterpillar will seem like a complete waste of time. 

I’m a woman and I am like the caterpillar. Afraid of change and like this I miss out on the biggest and biggest chances. Why would I choose getting stepped on by a human instead of being patient and then becoming the most gorgeous butterfly ever? 

No one can catch a butterfly. Everyone can just look at her from a very long distance and praise her for all the time she spent in that cacoon, to become herself. 

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