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The Butterfly is Beautiful Because the Caterpillar is Brave
Malarkey masquerading as inspiration.
The anxieties that are banished to dark corners during the day by my raucous siblings often come out to file their claws at night, and as always, I am waiting. I try not to be too much of a cliché when I encounter my fears and anxieties, so I spare them them the dramatic treatment of pulling the tassel on the lamp and saying “I’ve been expecting you” in a low-pitched voice from my leather wingback chair. But I do still greet them when they step in through the door, teeth bared. They will stay until I fall asleep, sitting at the headboard next to Looming Deadlines, Student Loans, and The Failing Economy. I most keenly feel the burden of these things when I am in bed. With that, however, comes the lazy realization that the dead of night is not an ideal time to start projects, apply for jobs, or commit to a rigid fitness regimen, so I pacify myself by watching What We Do in the Shadows or scrolling social media.
Tonight, during my usual scrolling, I accidentally wandered onto Inspiration Avenue, a place I try never to be because cheesy posters of sloths that say “hang in there” or kittens that say “you’re purrrrfect” are firmly in the realm of Not My Aesthetic. There I found this quote:
