The Making of Butterflies

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I want to cocoon.

I want distance and detachment. I want solitude and seclusion.

I want to come back to see that you have finally changed your mind. To see that it has finally sunk in. To see that it all finally makes sense.

The goal is to wake up and slowly move or not move at all so as to not wake you. The goal is to exist silently, softly, to float around you.

The goal is to not disturb the lightness you hold dear. To occupy some space but not too much, until your things make room for mine next to them, until the boundary disappears – that imaginary line separating my side from yours.

The purpose is to correctly lay your things down without you having to readjust them. The purpose is to perfect my Brunoise.

The purpose is to be all the right things while still being me. It’s only superficial, the core and essence never change - just tiny corrections at the surface to help the center shine through.

I never really understood this before, it always felt like someone is attacking my existence, my being – it felt like someone was constantly trying to change and control me and it aggravated the feminist in me. To me, no one deserved that I alter my behavior and mannerisms for them. No one deserved that I put in that extra effort – as long as I was comfortable, everyone else should be. And it was in my own comfort that I did not create a storm. Aggravate me, and it would rain on you for days on end.

But that has changed. I am about to emerge a butterfly.