I once was a caterpillar. And I was nothing special- just plain me. And I was never happy, always blue. I was teal and I was turquoise, and I was green, too. I cried, and the colors of my tears swept together as one. And they became an ocean. My ocean. I looked inside myself to find the wet. And I touched it. I blew my hands across the surface, and I lost my balance. I fell and slipped into my wet. And I did not come out. But, I soon began to drown in my blue, and I yearned for other colors. I wanted fiery reds, deep sunset yellows, and a soft, warm purple that would bind me tight and help me to float.

There was a time I hated, and a torrent of raging wind blew inside me. My temper was hot; the sun bowed down to its power, and was lost in the deep, cold parts of my heart where heat erupted from an enraged ice volcano. My rage and fighting words and scorn began to bicker, plotting and conniving. Until the only one left was me and I could point blame at no one else.

I became a rose and I was a purple the color of forever. I took all my hateful, sad, greedy, envious colors and locked them away tight. I was beautiful and I was kind, and I never had the terribly bad feelings I had locked away. No one else, I thought, no one else is good like me. And it was true. It wasn’t long before marks began to cross my skin, showing where others not like I had tread upon me, taking advantage of my pink forgiving state.

Decision hit me, and I dove deep into me in a reckless search for my hidden pirate treasure. The murky colors clouded my eyes, and my cold, numb hands searched the shallow me floor blindly. I eventually found my color treasure and began the black struggle to open it. I could not.

I could not cry, I could not hate, I could not care. I still can’t care. And one day, I will die like that, colorless. I could have stayed sad, I could have stayed angry; but, then again, I could not. I made my metamorphosis. And now I will be this, a colorless butterfly, forever.