I am here and so are the butterflies in my stomach

Translucent crust is getting stuck to the tip of my tongue. I can feel tiny wings fluttering in its last pursuit of happiness. What do I know about being a butterfly devoured? What do I know about carefree existence when your body is so light that the wind can quickly pick it up and carry it far far away? I will awaken tomorrow by slowly opening my eyes and realizing that I can not stretch out my body or yawn anymore. The ugliness of my human form has been transformed into a different kind of being. The one that has a capability of taking off and heading for the ceiling of my bedroom. I am free at last, free to soar to the borderless blue skies and free to die of cold air or lack of oxygen, that is in case I still need oxygen to survive. Death of a butterfly mid-flight is perhaps so much more poetic, uncomplicated and therefore easier to manage than trying to plan out the beautiful ending of a human form. Death of a butterfly is like a tiny flash of lighting that hits your body with electromagnetic current and envelops your entire being in soothing calmness.They are no longer fluttering in my stomach. The unsettling emotion has been replaced but awkward silence. I know what I have done, and there is no turning back. The only thing that is left is to spread my wings and venture into the unknown.