Brave larva, be yourself.
Dare to shuck the shackles of binomial nomenclature and evolve into a subspecies rare and unexpected.
I only encourage this metamorphosis because you have chosen a chrysalis shaped like the resplendent letter “y” while the rest of your order goosesteps down the branch and slumps into the conventional “j”.
Dance, eccentric larva.
Wiggle and jiggle to some distant disco beat while the rest of your comrade cocoons deafen themselves to the music.
And when the moment for caterpillar self-actualization occurs, as indeed it eternally does, spring forth in your transvestite showgirl splendor and take center stage.
You are magnificent, you larva coming out to the world as a butterfly.
I literally hold my breath as you burst from your cocoon, arms extended in victorious triumph.
You are bedecked in ultimate drag queen regalia: silvery-antennaed tacky tiara, sequined Halloween-colored gown, over-the-top-under-the bustier fishnet stockings, and makeup makeup makeup.
I am riveted as you flitter and flutter in your catwalk across the sky, the regina of queens, the mother of monarchs.
But alas! You are viewed by others as an ant in drag.
I sigh as a bird of prey swoops down from the heavens and swallows you whole.
I should have known the world would not tolerate one so flashy and unique.