I am a particle amongst the cosmos. Insignificant uniqueness bundled into a speck floating through what is known as life. This inconsequential speck is filled with love, hate, tears and joy, a complex web of bipolar inimicality. And as I am washed up like sand upon the shores I lie with all the other snowflakes not knowing, that when I melt, how I will be remembered. I am your perceived notion of who I am, but all the same, we melt together forming a river that will carve through the bedrock of life, leaving an imprint of erosion showing; who will notice us?
I am deciduous: filled with color and beauty when the sun shines upon my leaves. Left barren, delicately naked when darkness comes. I am the cicada who sheds its protective cocoon only for a brief time before life ends. Yet inside this cocoon can also be a butterfly anticipating the exquisiteness of metamorphism. I spread my new wings and fly leading the way for those crawling inch by inch below me. As I am all these things who I am will always be bound by definition, words that have different meanings to different people. Who I really am can not be put into words and is incomprehensible by even me.
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