Blog About My Thoughts

I'm not really sure what to identify myself as. Some days I feel like a lone wolf, alone in the mountains of Tibet or Alaska. Watching the towns below through eyes that refuse to cry despite the loneliness in the heart that operates them. On days like these, no matter how much I wash my hands I feel like I have paws that are dirty, still. Dirty from digging through the dirt looking for bones of owls, deer, squirrel, or whatever else the cold snow may have hid. I'm looking for marrow to fill me, fill my emptiness and lonely and repair me. This marrow is not people, I know that in the depths of my heart, but it is something.

Then other days I feel like a butterfly. Floating through the air, talkative, no longer introverted, but extroverted and free. I can laugh, and in this laugh I fill my lungs with so much more than air and oxygen. I fill my lungs that no science could ever explain, I fill it with something spiritual. An energy perhaps, an energy that only things in nature experience. I know this because when I feel human (and these days are rare), the world around me seems bleak. Humans are ugly and frightening. I jump at the slightest touch or raising of the voice. But when I am a butterfly, nothing can take me down.

I want to land on each and every beautiful rose petal, and in my butterfly form, these rose petals are in the form of conversation. I see people's souls when I'm free and spreading my wings, instead of the human body that they were born with.