Butterfly

I am no longer the caterpillar, but part of me misses the slow inching to life I was able to do.

I have waited for this day for so long, and yet I sit here crying knowing I will never get this feeling again.

And knowing that this is the end of a chapter for me in my life but mourning it,

how can I feel such conflicting things?

The bliss of knowing I will no longer have to be tormented by this nightmare,

but begging to have a restart.

Now I must spread my wings and hope I can fly, even though I don't think I am ready to go just yet.

The phantom feeling of the inching through life will always be there and I shall carry those memories,

but I will miss the slowness of life.