A small cabbage butterfly, the sight of which still makes me a little angry because a couple of years ago, some of those laid eggs all over the marigolds I'd grown from seed and the caterpillars destroyed them, despite my efforts to pick them off - there would always be more before long
I will note, I generally like insects, and I don't actually wish these guys any harm, I just still harbor some resentment toward them over that. I was so delighted that the plants had actually grown to the point that they were flowering - they were kind of like my babies for a while.
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Yet in my new wildness and freedom I almost welcome the bitterness of alienage. For although nepenthe has calmed me, I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men.
-H. P. Lovecraft, "The Outsider"