Lately I've realized how far I'd gone in the pursuit of my once quixotic desires...I've only gone so far in acheiving them though and that's where the gap between the visible and invisible is brandishing sensibly... Like a butterfly, Ive undergone a transformation but only abstract...It was onlys my ultimate dream, to be like one, to act like one...but sadly enough, I now realized there's more joy in being the caterpillar than being merely a butterfly...the eternal quest for all that encompasses perfection. Slowly but surely ,all creatures get there eventually. Now all those suppressions of my "being" of my feelings and my essence of selfdom seem unbearably unnecessary...entangled in the limbo between pain and pleasure...In the quotodian lightness of being...who's there to blame?