she is sixteen. her days revolve around high school and the boy she loves. she sneaks out of her house twice a week, while both her parents are busy at work, and runs off to meet him. she is sure of who she is. she likes books, and drawing, and writing, and she knows she isn't the best but that does not bother her. her world is small still, and that is okay.
she is eighteen. during her birthday party, the boy she loves dances with her in front of her extended family. she is proud, and happy, and her worries are stored silently in the very back of her mind. sometimes they pop up, but she shoos them away with a wave of her hand. she is strong, and there is still a hint of who she used to be. (it is like a dim lamp, barely there but still shining.) her world is growing bigger and she does not know it yet.
she is twenty. she is lost, and confused, and she does not seem to remember who, or how, she used to be. she feels like a liar, unsure, like a moth swearing up and down that it was supposed to turn into a butterfly. she cannot read, or draw, or write anymore - her heart is gone and her head is stuck somewhere up in the clouds. but the boy stays, and he pulls her hand down when he feels she might float away, and he tells her it is okay to not be the best because the best is overrated anyway. he says he will accept her, help her find her old self or discover a new one in the process. he will give her his heart in exchange for the one she can't find, and in it she will find the bravery she needs to look at how vast her world has suddenly become. "i am here," he tells her, and she believes him, just a little bit. that was enough.
#57 - when jupiter becomes a moth