Hardly a memory- merely an imprint in that murky corner of my mind that has rusted shut. A horrible reminiscence at best, that I was reminded of every day. Why can I not forget it? I don’t want to contemplate all my hopes and dreams that had been long lost and rejected: my anticipation to burst forth and see what lay ahead, all turned to dust.
All my childhood my life was only building up to the moment- the day I would begin to form my chrysalis- and then climb inside. Fourteen short days at most, that’s all. And it would be oh so worth it. “Spectacular!” They had all said in awe after glancing upon my cocoon. And it was true, so true- mine was greater than any they had seen.. Mine was an array of colors, splattered across the chrysalis like paint on a canvas, everything fit together so delicately. I was told I’d turn out the most striking out of all my sisters, as close to perfect as perfect could be. We all had high hopes.

I remember in the cocoon- at first it was the darkness that disturbed me- after a couple of days my mind wasn’t sure anymore the difference between light and dark. Perhaps, I would think, I am already out, and the time in the chrysalis has blinded me forevermore. Never would I be able to see the beauty of my wings. Pch- "an ego so large we can hardly think near her" some would say. Was it really so hard to divulge their jealousy of me? I’d never known what envy was to feel though- Even before my cocoon, I had been the most beautiful caterpillar of them all. They only thought I was bragging because they knew I had what they would never: I was pure exquisiteness. Never would God curse me with blindness.

Eventually, I lost track of time. It was so cramped as I grew, and days turned into weeks. I'd make up ridiculous games in my head to pass the time, and eventually I came up with this: I would fantasize about how beautiful my wings would be. I would imagine how everyone would be more jealous of me than ever, and my wings would be a extravagant sight that others would desire and covet and only hope to behold one day. I'd be a legend. I would sit and wonder- oh, maybe they'll be blue with bright green spots on them, and all the animals will stop and stare . Or maybe they'll be a vibrant crimson color - I'd be radiant! This made the time pass. And ultimately, my wings began to thrust themselves out of the chrysalis and with a "crackle" and a shattering of pupa like splinters falling to the ground I was free!

So once I was out of the cocoon, I… I was speechless. The first thing I looked at were my fascinating new wings of course… and my heart plummeted to the ground, all my hopes and dreams were washed away. For, my wings weren't fascinating at all. They were dull, and reminded me of mud slopped on the floor. I went from traumatized to incredulous in a split second, and with anguish I let out a shrill cry. It still echoes through the forest as I sit here alone- not being marveled at- but being laughed at. I look at all the others and their beautiful wings- and the jealousy drives me mad. I am cursed with the sight of my own horror. For I am nothing- nothing but a inadequate, ugly…moth.