The Greatest Show

The older butterfly swatted his wing tips in the air, waving away the comment like it was nothing. "Oh Darling," he said, "It's all an act. Just one big show." He leaned forward toward the young caterpillar before continuing. "The greatest show, in my opinion. If anyone were to ask."
The young caterpillar gasped.
"Looks can be deceiving, my Dear." He leaned in closer still, so that his face was mere inches from the young caterpillar's. "Besides, when it all comes down to it, which are you going to pick? Laugh or cry?"

In truth, the older butterfly tried his hardest to strive for the former. But at the end of the day, when he was left all alone, the tears he'd resisted came pouring out. They rained down like a gushing waterfall, his only saving grace that there was no one there to see. "I'm such a hypocrite!" he wailed, gazing up toward the sky, where clouds were rolling in. He hovered back and forth, the winged insect's equivalent of pacing, as he chattered away to himself. "I tell everyone else how they must take the leap. Yet I can't bring myself to even peer over the edge. I tell the anxious young caterpillars how wonderful it will be when they have wings, yet I've never embraced my own..."

Years later, the older butterfly gazed down upon his reflection in the lake, seeing the backdrop of the night sky behind him, lit with a thousand stars.  His tears, fewer and farther between, met the lake water with a gentle plop as they fell. "I'm scared." he finally admitted in a whisper so quiet even he could hardly hear himself. "So scared."
"Scared?" a voice echoed. The older butterfly spun around, his heart beating quickly in time with his wings. He blinked, seeing his niece emerging from the shadows, now a butterfly, just like him. He darted in a quick circle; up, down, side to side before settling once more in his original position. "What are you doing here?"
"You weren't home," she said simply. "I came to check on you. Good thing I did." She flew closer and was at his side in a moment. She met his reluctant gaze with a gentle firmness. "Everything ok?"
"I'm scared," he said again. When his niece did not say anything, the older butterfly continued. "of everything. This whole time, I've been a hypocrite. I'm scared to step into the light. To take the big leap of faith. I'm scared of everything. Of everyone. What if they judge me? What if they hate me?"
"What if they don't?" asked his niece. "What if everyone thinks you're wonderful?"
Her uncle scoffed. "Yes, because that's really going to happen."
"Why wouldn't it?"
"What about me," he asked, swirling around, "says 'wonderful' to you?"
His niece opened and closed her mouth several times, at a loss for words. In that moment, she feared too. She knew her uncle would take it the wrong way, would take it as proof if she failed to say anything, but she wasn't entirely sure of what to say either. "No one's ever liked me. Why would they start now?" The older butterfly asked, filling the silence.
His niece sighed. "Uncle, that was years ago. Things have changed. People love you. You're the most respected elder in the whole kaleidoscope, especially among the caterpillars. Why can't you see that?"
"Because I don't know how to," said the older butterfly, raising his eyes to meet hers. "My whole life, I've expected hatred and rejection. It's been drilled into me. It's not like I can suddenly turn it off like you do with a light switch. I don't know how to not expect everyone not to reject me or hate me. As much as I'd love to expect the opposite, I've no idea how to make myself believe."
His niece spoke quietly. "So you put on this act, this big show,"
"The greatest show," the older star interjected, causing them both to chuckle.
"The greatest show," she continued, "to fool everyone into thinking you're the complete opposite to what you actually are."
The older butterfly's wings fluttered his agreement. "I'd love to laugh not because the alternative is crying a river, but because I want to laugh." He sighed. "Maybe one day."