I have never been one of those girls. The pretty ones, the popular ones, the smart ones, the nice ones, the cool ones, the graceful ones, those ones. I have never been any one of them. I don't think it's because I'm not any of those things, just not the right amounts. Those girls, they are like beautiful desserts. It takes a special recipe to come out like one of them, and I am short on a few ingredients. And since I am not anything, like them, I must be nothing. I've always thought I was something of course, but what? Naturally, that makes me a nothing. Not made my nothing, just not any thing known yet. Pure loneliness and a little too much time to ponder poetically brewed the perfect pot tonight for me to be quietly, distantly torn to pieces about it. And he knew. Somehow.
And when he found out, he told me I was a butterfly.
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