Fly, Butterfly, Fly

I love butterflies. I love the way they make me feel. They are beautiful and free, and that's how I feel because of them. When I am around butterflies my eyes light up and I imagine all the places they travel. What if I could travel like that? I imagine all the flowers they land on and all the aromas that fill their tiny microscopic noses. I imagine myself roaming in a field of a million bright colors and amazing smells. Allowing myself to finally breathe deeply and feel real relief for the first time. In this moment of imagining everything disappears. I feel alive like never before. And then I hear an alarm clock go off. Ugh. That's the sound of responsibility. I hear someone's voice telling me "I'Leigha, it's time to go. I'Leigha, pay attention." And I'm right back to people demanding me to be present and expecting something from me. The pressure suffocating me once again. This sequence of doing, speaking, listening, and performing is what we call life. But is it really living? Or do we only do these things because we think we have to. Where does duty end and life really begin? What if if there was a place we could go and rest our wings a second. A place where we can feel at peace with ourselves, our lives, and be present and thankful for the beauty that surrounds us.