She is a social butterfly and yet feels out of place. Friends and family surround her, yet she yearns for everyone to leave. She is tired of those fake smiles and comments. The endless banter and lack of depth make her ache. It is beautiful to sit alone in an empty place and gather her thoughts. No one to disturb, no notifications, no feelings to think of- but a peaceful wind. When she is with her friends, there are moments she feels like she is a passerby. Just someone from outside looking in. It would not make much of a difference if she just flew away. She doubts people would care if she, like a caterpillar, goes in a cocoon. But the only difference is she will never become a butterfly. She'll be in the cocoon without care for the world and care for herself. It is a tedious task to care for yourself. Working hard every day and then taken as granted. In a cocoon, she can rest.
The moments she lets go and escapes, someone must ask if she is okay. What can she reply other than, "I am okay, just lost in my head." She cannot say," No, I am not. I want to run away. I am tired and want to rest. You all do not feel like my home, and everything is out of place. It scares me to think that I will be here forever. Please leave me alone and give that pretentiousness to someone else. But if you want to cry as much as I do, then let us weep together in a dark corner. I promise I will not breathe a word about your tears to anyone. I'll keep you safe in my corner. But you do not want to cry, so go to people like you. Go to them in the green and have fun. When you do walk away, do not look back at me. Let me be alone and silent without the need to entertain you."
She carries graves of old friendships, people, and relationships. The habits left by them in her, their words. She wants to forget all of them and find her true self. She runs and runs in the wee hours of the night from everything. She stops to look at the sky and moon. The moon shines brightly, and the wind blows gently. Her eyes catch the light. Not of the sky. But the ground is shiny. There are sparkles shattered on the grass. She changes her angles to see the glimmer of every piece. She realises some things are reflecting the moonlight. Without the light, they were scraps. Like the light, she realises it is those graves, those friends, family, and relationships that made her the best version of herself. In searching for the moon in the sky. She fails to see; she is standing on a ground of stars.
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