Butterflies

I wish I could call myself an enigma. I wish I could float through the world a mysterious creature, captivating, yet nothing more than a blip on the world's radar. Wouldn't it be lovely to exist as butterflies do? Brilliant in elegance and poise yet unstoppable in every sense. I don't want to be tied down. I wish I could fly, strip myself of all that is of burden -- of weight and humanity -- and escape with the wind to someplace picturesque and perfect.

Is it possible to be but half a person? To claim partial existence?

I feel like the edges of me have faded away, that I have deposited myself, in bits and pieces, here and there, yet nonetheless that I lack a true, tangible identity. I'm not clearly defined, not whole or specific in any way.