I once met a girl named Lily.
Well, I’ve met a lot of girls named Lily, but this one was special because she wasn’t very special at all.
But she thought her life was especially special.
You see, Lilly walked like a human,
Talked like a human,
Smiled like a human,
Laughed like a human.
Like a human who has never had a sour moment in her life.
Like a human who rolls pain off of her shoulders like an umbrella rolls the rain.
Like a dog who turns three times before laying down to sleep.
Maybe if she smiles thrice,
Maybe if she laughs thrice,
Maybe if she pretends like life is nice,
Then maybe Lily is just playing human.
Playing like life is the way they make it out to be in commercials.
Trust me, I’ve seen them.
And maybe even if you haven’t, you could at least know
That it isn’t too hard to come to work every day with a weary look on your face.
Or let your cheeks go pale and peachy because you were only just ill.
It isn’t too hard to want people to feel bad,
But Lilly was different.
She seemed like the stereotypical “normal”.
She seemed like death was mortal.
Life was longer,
And living was better.
She seemed like war was a ways away.
And her big blue eyes were not scarred,
They were bright
Like butterflies in June.
Except Lilly must not know that the flap of a butterfly can cause a weather disaster on the other side of the world.
Or that butterflies soon fall and die.
They lose all of the powder that keeps them in flight.
Because every time they lift off into the air their dust sprinkle the earth in particles so small you cannot even imagine its effects on its health.
On its life.
It is like every time I get up and walk I lose a bit of myself.
But Lily—she never loses herself.
She is the perfect human.
Butterflies and rainbows.
Typically playing human.