There once was a caterpillar who did not want to grow up. These are the best days, he thought. No responsibilities, no work.
The caterpillar hated the thought of change. I don’t understand why we have to move every season, he complained. I’m fine where I am.
The caterpillar was fearful of its own inevitable change. I’m afraid of the dark. I’m also afraid of heights. I’ll miss being a caterpillar and living on the solid ground. Why do I have to change?
Inside the chrysalis, the caterpillar understood why they had to hole themselves up during this time. Having shed his skin, he was feeling quite vulnerable.
Sometimes isolation is best. No one wants to talk when they’re going through a rough transition.
Who wants to explain why they’re going through a change even they themselves don’t fully understand?
There was a butterfly who did not know what to do with his life. All throughout his life as a caterpillar, he only thought of surviving so that he could become a butterfly. Life will be so much better once you’re a beautiful butterfly, everyone had said. So he’d eaten his way through childhood and dodged equally hungry birds to make it here to this moment. Now what? What was there left to look forward to?
What’s the purpose of being a butterfly? He asked.
To find a mate and lay eggs, someone replied simply.
To drink sweet nectar and help flowers reproduce, another said.
The butterfly sighed. Better to struggle and have a dream, he concluded.
At least you have something to show for your change, a fellow insect commented to the butterfly. No one believes me when I say I’m not the same as I was before.
