She wanted so desperately to feel special, so she kept telling herself that she was every beautiful butterfly she’d see flying around. She wanted to make meaning out of everything, because she wanted to erase the times from her past when she felt like nothing. A stranger would smile and she thought that it meant true love. A friend would pout and she thought that she had done something wrong. She was always interpreting things in extremes, because things had to be either good or bad; she did not know how to make sense of everything that fell in the middle. You can imagine her surprise when she learned that life was all about living in the middle: that she’d meet great people who would also make her mad, and that some douche bags would also prove to her that they had hearts (she still avoided douche bags though). She eventually learned to take everything with a grain of salt, even her good feelings and bad feelings. See, throughout her entire life she had only been searching for butterflies. But through her growth and acceptance of things for what they were, she’d come to learn that the caterpillars that became butterflies were just as worthy of being adored. She’d come to accept herself and all her imperfections, all her flaws and rough edges that had yet to be rounded out. She accepted that beauty was all about how she interpreted her experiences and the images that were emblazoned in her mind, and that none of her experiences, whether good or bad, would last forever. And that is how she came to see that she was a butterfly in her own eyes.