She lived her entire life admiring the beauty and the popularity of everyone except herself. She ignored her own virtues – the depth of her soul, the kindness in her heart, the power of her mind, the detail of her reasoning, the depth of her eyes… Because, then, these were all small things to her, taken for granted by her and others. And such she lived life, pursuing the superficial, the romantic, the flattery… because only compliments and appreciation would validate all she had. And, as fate often does, her wishes were granted. The caterpillar flourished into a butterfly. A small butterfly, with only a few colours, intricately patterned… perhaps not worthy of an award or a special mention, but worthy of being noticed; different enough to turn heads, and perhaps invoke a sense of mystery and intrigue in its admirers. And many admirers there were, each with their own motives. The uncertainty of it all, her inability to trust face values and this new ability to fly made her afraid; the fear sometimes paralysed her. Because flying comes with risk… most wounds won’t heal entirely, leaving behind scars that are a constant reminder of the price one pays for being one of those privileged few that made that journey; that grew, that flourished. Flying away from simplicity; the luxury of seeing the world in black and white, the comfort of the shadows in which she once used to blend into, and an understanding that each flight means several unsuccessful ones. Sometimes the spotlight becomes too bright, too blinding, too demanding. The pressure to be the lead actress in her own life drains her… it becomes difficult to fly tirelessly and beautifully against the strong winds of constant change and challenge. Unfortunately, there is no option to turn back. The cocoon that once protected her small frame has now disappeared; the shelter and comfort of youth and innocence are gone. So she pushes on, realising that the sky is a special shade of blue and the clouds in it are her endless possibilities. And she smiles when she sees herself surrounded by others just like her, other beauties who will see hers but not their own, other warriors who have fallen twice as hard as she did but now fly twice as strong. She flies with them, understanding that perhaps she, like them, was not built for the shadows but for the glistening light that falls between them. And with that thought, the horizon feels within reach.