Cocoon

Everyone thinks that cocoons are precious save havens, untouched by the evils of the world. But they are wrong.

I would love to live in a warm blanket of solitude, but cocoons do not do that. They are merely foggy glasses and a scarf on a cold winter day. The world is the same, the world is still there, but it's harder to perceive. And the cold whips at you still, just a thin bit of protection to help you.

The bitter cold and grouchy winds are your only company. People walk not past you, not around you, not even through you, but into you. They bump into you and bruise your skin with their bulky bodies. They don't notice you - it's like they are brushing against a brick wall. Cold, bruised, and alone. That is what life in a cocoon is.

Through the harsh winters and dull falls, waiting eagerly for a gentle spring and a breath of fresh air - a new life. A life where you won't be ugly or scary or creepy or weird or unfitting, unsettling, annoying, or feared, where you won't be sneered at, and your presence will be cheered. A life where you are loved for being you.

But at this point, are you even still yourself?

When you wrapped yourself for the transformation, it was just second nature. It was finally your time to experience the inevitable. But the you that you once were is peeled away like dead, flaky skin or chapped lips, or your own withered cocoon. Your new-found beauty, your new-found self, from something so disgusting and unwanted.

Do you remember the tale of the ugly duckling? How about Cinderella? Now think - would anyone have liked them before they became beautiful and successful? No? Now haven't you had that same thought about the other beautiful people that made you want to change? What makes us any better than the repulsive toads that get to become rulers of each others happiness? What makes you different than the ones that you despised? You escaped from them, just to become one yourself.

You may see a beautiful butterfly, but I still see a bug, simply waiting to be squished.