Some people are like gnats. Incredibly annoying, always up in your face. You wave them away, and two seconds later, they are back. They give new meaning to the word persistence.
Some people are like praying mantises. They spend all their time in the attitude of penitence, professing their gentle, reverent natures – until someone gets too close. Then they strike, and devour, and their true name becomes apparent: preying, not praying, mantis.
Some people are like cockroaches. They come out at night, and get into your stuff, spoiling everything they possibly can. When the light is shined on them, they scuttle off, ashamed of their actions, back into the dark that they prefer.
Some people are like flies. They congregate around death and decay, they revel in it, they worship it, they roll in it, and immerse their children in it. They care nothing about life – and are wholly consumed with seeking death.
Some people are like spiders. They weave great, complicated webs of lies and deception, setting traps for the unwary. And they delight in swooping down on those who get caught up in their deceit, gloating in their victory at another victim.
Some people are like ants. They keep to their own kind, and they keep their noses to their own grindstones, concerned only with whatever is important to them. They know nothing but work, until something disturbs their cozy, tidy, little nest. When they feel threatened, they and all their like-minded friends come out of the woodwork to attack whoever was unlucky enough to rouse their ire, and they all band together in a single-minded fury to destroy.
Some people are like honeybees. They work constantly, too, like ants, and they do very good work. But, they are talented and gifted enough to amass great riches for themselves, which they guard jealously, and do not share with anyone – to the point of sacrificing their own lives in defense of their sweetness, rather than sharing it with anyone else.
Some people are like butterflies. They are visually extremely beautiful, wearing the brightest and most intricate colors, but they can never forget that they were once ugly worms. That focus on the ugliness inside them means that their outward beauty is brittle and fleeting, and most have very short lives.
And some people, a very few people, are like dragonflies. Dragonflies are beautiful, too, but not in a showy way. The sun has to strike their wings just right for the shine to be seen. They are hard workers, too – and they spend their lives consuming the blood-sucking mosquitoes that plague mankind. They don’t make a lot of noise advertising that they are ridding the world of the disease, pain, and temptation to scratch that mosquitoes bring, they just quietly go about their life-saving business, flashing sunlight reflected from their fast-moving wings. Dragonflies have another secret name: they are the mosquito hawks.
And those people, I love.