I would like to mail you a butterfly. To arrive in your mailbox. A symbol of love, freedom, and the ephemeral nature of beauty. But, I am afraid it would not survive the heat or cold of the closed mailbox awaiting your retrieval upon delivery. And, upon you opening the mailbox to find a dead butterfly, you may misinterpret my gesture as a threat, or unkind message, or simply as a bad idea, poorly executed, that ended sadly, almost tragic.
So I won't.
And that should be the end of this story. But it isn't, because this story is a metaphor for living life...and if I don't tell you that, you'll miss it.
Just like I did.
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