wow, you’ve truly mastered the art of compliments, haven’t you? it's touching to be seen like this, and I appreciate the admiration you've expressed. however, I must disagree with you. I’m nothing like a butterfly, my sweet, sweet angel. as you've said, a butterfly glides smoothly through the air, its wings sparkling and shining brightly, captivating the world with its fleeting beauty. it moves with a grace and fluidity that seems almost ethereal. yet, what you see is only a portion of it. you see the colors and intricate patterns, but not the way how I struggle against the wind, fighting to stay aloft amidst the gusts that threaten to ground me. the beauty you see and admire—the vibrant and bright colors—fades, occasionally hidden beneath the shadows of doubt.

I may seem bright at times, but there’s a weight I carry—a struggle that isn’t always visible. you see, I don’t glide through life smoothly and with ease. my colors sometimes fade, revealing how dark my true colors can be. I stumble, I falter, and some days, even flying feels impossible. while butterflies are admired for their beauty and grace, I don't resonate with that description, nor do I fit it. you see the light and beauty in me, and I love you for that, but perhaps I’m more like a moth—delicate and easily swayed, drawn to the warmth of others and to the flickering lights that promise warmth but can lead me astray. I carry a subtle charm and resilience, though it may not always be apparent. sensitive and difficult to understand, and sometimes lacks strength and can be easily hurt or overwhelmed by challenges or criticism. I’m just as fragile and imperfect as anyone else, my love. so, now, do you still find me pretty?