Butterflies don’t see their own beauty, but the world does. We are all beautiful in our own way; we just need to learn to appreciate ourselves.
Butterflies, with their vibrant wings and graceful flight, stand out among insects. I envy them the most. Their colorful wings make them the envy of all other creatures. Butterflies inspire others to be better, but they can’t see their own beauty—just like me. People often say I’m like a butterfly, beautiful inside and out. But deep down, I feel like a broken butterfly—a butterfly with a damaged wing. They want me to fly high, to soar like a butterfly, but I can’t because of that broken wing. I know I have the potential to be the best, but my past holds me back, crumbling everything inside me.
I remember when I came second in class rankings. My classmates congratulated me, and I felt proud. But when my parents found out I wasn’t first, that I had lost to someone they thought less capable, I saw the disappointment in their faces. That expression pierced my heart. Like a butterfly with a damaged wing, I couldn’t fly. This memory clings to me, haunting every step I take. Even my own blood criticizes me. I often think of fading away, like a butterfly that only lives for a short time—a month—and then disappears.
But I also long for a rebirth, to rise again with new wings, in the right place at the right time. Just like the butterfly that emerges from its cocoon, I want to shed the weight of the past and awaken as something stronger, something more whole.
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