It is said that love causes your mind to go all blank and it causes your stomach to produce the flits and flutters of butterflies. I have experienced the emotion of love before, but it did not cause butterflies to fly around my stomach or for my mind to go blank. It caused fear, for if I said something wrong then everything would be messed up. I think love causes fear. The emotion of fear of losing that person. The fear of letting them down in a time of need. Sometimes it causes more than butterflies to form.
Love causes my stomach to twist and turn. My stomach soon enough is starting to tear itself apart from the pain that the love causes it. I think that if love is so painful then who would wish to have and feel this emotion? Then I remember that some people like the oddity of the pain and how it causes them to come out of a shell that has kept them safe for so long.
The shell is unravelling into wings, just like a butterfly. Butterflies seem to be something that always comes with this emotion. Whether the person becomes the butterflies or if these butterflies are just fluttering around in the person's stomach like it is a safe and warm home. I cannot bare to see these butterflies eventually grow old and die. When the love becomes old and no longer needed, the butterflies seem to die. With these butterflies gone, people can finally see clearly. They can see how horrible this feeling is. They can see how the butterflies were hiding the scars and wounds caused by the love.
I wish I could say that these wounds heal eventually, but when new butterflies replace the old ones the cycle starts again. The butterflies causing more pain, but also masking it. The fluttering is so loud that you do not hear the own sound of your flesh ripping apart. Soon when all of you is an open wound, you push away any thought of the butterflies. You swear to never feel the emotion of love again. You put up walls and nets to catch any butterflies that happen to stumble in.
Soon people can start to see the open wounds and they start to worry. You do not worry, for you know you have walls and nets up so no more butterflies can reach you again. One day, after many years of "help" the walls crumble and the nets break. You do not have the will to put up any new walls or to supply any new nets. People now start to think you are getting better, and they see the wound closing. They are unknowing that you had gotten used to the pain, so every night when the wounds try to heal themselves you tear them open wider.
You are a bloody mess and the butterflies are not to blame this time. The worrying has stopped. The butterflies, no longer can call you a warm and safe home, you never question why. One day you try to pick up parts of yourself. The fallen walls and broken nets are repaired with glue that would only last for a small amount of time. By the time the walls crumble again, the nets have been long since broken. The butterflies nowhere near you. Only the flies feasting in you, hoping that they can finish the damage of the one long lost feeling of love.