//The Blue Butterfly.

The Blue Butterfly.

By |2020-02-18T12:27:04+00:00February 18th, 2020|Inspiring Story|

Walking through the corridors of the Art Museum she smiled halting her steps, her smile competing with the brightly lit room. The halt reminiscing the memories that are portrayed in the form of the “blue butterfly” on the cream walls.
“Was I 6 or 7 when I 1st saw the butterfly flying in its blue glory?” she thought to herself shaking her head realizing she’s 23 now n time sure passed.

Her story started by her window when she was contemplating her boredom with the crayons. As the breeze swept her bangs, she looked up to a beautiful butterfly flying, instantly picking up the blue crayon. That was the 1st time , the little girl started dreaming, a very absurd dream of riding the butterfly. But isn’t that how dreams begin?

She grew to be an average looking teen with not so average dreams.She means to say her dreams evolved from riding the butterfly to drawing one.” But society wouldn’t let u do that. ” Like every other girl of her age, she locked up the blue butterfly in the clam hiding it in the deep blue sea and continued with her quest not knowing that wasn’t her boat.

She excelled her marks making the society proud not giving her a reason to give up. Maybe sometimes you gotta be bad at things to give them up without regret…

She drew whenever she can to cope up with those so called “I’m doing something but I have no idea of what it is” kind of stress, which is quite common among everyone irrespective of what age group one belongs to.

But she knows she’s different once she holds the brush, she teleports to the fantasy world filled with colors be it bright,dull, it doesn’t matter.Her world being the canvas and the fantasy taking it’s form through the colors she fills them with. Canvas is just like life she says. Just the way the colors give meaning to the canvas, memories give meaning to the life. The skill is your struggle to make the most beautiful memories.

But life has always been a roller coaster. You have people complimenting your capability but not actually supporting it. “Take up MBA and stand proud on your legs” said everyone. “Pride is in what you like and what I like is art” is what she wanted to say but couldn’t as she was already hibernating in self doubt.

Maybe sometimes you gotta give it a shot to see how hard you can hit just so you wouldn’t regret…

She was offered an internship right in her last year of graduation. It wasn’t a very big company but sure had all sorts of work that would pave the way. But as confusing as the signs from the universe can get, a notification for the ‘art festival’ popped up on her mobile. There’s nothing to loose just by registering is what she convinced herself and that’s how she took the first step, actually being unaware of it. The last date for submission was in 30 days and she couldn’t care less as she was engrossed with the interview for the internship. She cracked the interview and took the spot and life’s been good but it wasn’t exciting leaving her disturbed.

The work wasn’t exactly that difficult but she was stressed nonetheless. (Who wouldn’t be when your conscious yet stubborn brain decided to get into the boat knowing it would drown.)

She felt lonelier than ever because somewhere in the secret chambers of her heart she knew, she isn’t dancing to the song she’s meant to sway for. She drew a lot just to cope with the stress but there came a point where even her brush couldn’t be of any help. Also the due date has come and she hadn’t prepared any . Sure, she drew but the contest had a theme and none of her drawings matched it. The theme being ‘life with hope’ where as she barely managed one into her painting and also into her life.

She’s decided to participate and give it a shot but chose a contrasting theme , a dark one illustrating a crumbling life. It was a naked girl, her hair barely covering her body, crouched at a corner surrounded by wicked demons tormenting her. If one looks close enough they would find the angry red scars on her body representing the tiredness the life has brought. There wasn’t even an ounce of Hope in the painting but she still chose it, not because she wanted to win but because she wanted to tell her plight, her story. That’s how she made the canvas voice her emotions.

The results were announced and as expected she didn’t make it but she was content that her story was seen and her screams reached the eyes. It didn’t matter to her whether the strangers cared, because for the first time she felt an invisible blanket draped warm around her assuring she’ll get through the cold.

That was when she knew she’s carving it, the warmth of eyes on her canvas. And she swirled through the white board with the brush in the hand and hope in the heart ready to expel the beauty and mesmerize the world.

Time passed by, and she’s 23 today. Not everyone knows her but the ones who saw her magic would know her soul. The magic she’s visiting with a content heart is ‘Her Blue Butterfly’ displayed on the walls of the not so big art gallery in her city. But that not so big gallery was the sparkle in her life. She’s gradually learnt happiness is where the heart is, which is why she doesn’t mind if she’s not some famous artist, at least she’s an artist now. It is only after a series of self-doubt, she’s found that the stars only shimmer in the dark and the intensity of shine doesn’t matter because it is beautiful no matter what. And this is what The Blue Butterfly is about.

The past the people wants us to let go has formed the dark background while the Girl standing proud spreading her glowing Blue wings resonates the happiness she’s created tearing through her inner demons. Her bright wings are worn out while her midnight blue dress is torn signifying the emotions she’s faced with. And the heights she overcame with are linked to the shine her wings are radiating and the smile her lips are painted with. Her eyes are still soft illuminating the kindness, a remedy to the pity she put herself in.

The magic begins the moment one starts the journey holding their emotions while eventually finding peace with them. We need not know our path because it gets formed the moment we walk. It’s the emotions and feelings one’s fight is with and when you come in peace with them and hold on to that little hope, the path is all flowers and the destination is all bright. The artist only wanted to portray the glow of hope taking the form of the Blue wings through the flow of life.


About the Author:

Hey. I'm a rookie writer. This is my first time actually writing a story. I wrote a few poems but never a story. I always had this passion for writing but only now I've actually tried something. I think I've done pretty well for a first timer ;)

Leave A Comment

thirteen − 2 =