I used to know a tiger that lived on a street I cannot quite recall. She clipped vibrant pink bows in her hair and wore a scratchy tulle skirt that hugged her lean legs. She twirled and hopped everywhere she went, wearing a smile so big her teeth gleamed. The teller at the bank turned her away, the grocer said she frightened customers too much to stay. Yet the next day she rose from her bed and skipped her way back into town. Albert Einstein once said “insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results”, but I don’t think the tiger was insane. I think she lived a carefree life. One where she didn’t even stop to ponder what the grocer or the banker would say. Where she felt confident and fulfilled in her glimmering skirt and bright pink bows. A distant, maybe even insane, concept to most. The only thing the people had to fear was her determination and passion. I used to know a tiger that wore pretty pink bows in her hair. The tiger that lived deep down inside of you and me.