You see that butterfly?
It’s beautiful right, but isn’t it also a bit scary, when looking at plain sight.
I don’t know about you,
But it sometimes seems like that beauty is not always good to have or to yearn for.
What is even beauty?
Is it something you can measure by asking the population’s opinion?
Is it something I have to conform to depending in what beauty world I live in?
I am my own person, and I don’t want it any other way, but the butterfly is sometimes still there, flying around, questioning and pestering you.
But when you touch it it’s apparently dangerous,
Because then it’s not able to fly anymore.
Because all the expectations would be swiped away. And you don’t want to feel ashamed, for when you let it fly. It will forever be in your mind.