I take it back.
Butterflies suck.
I used to think they felt good. I used to think they felt promising. I used to love the feeling of butterflies. But now they bring me sorrow. They bring me despair. They are an ever present reminder of the person I care for. Whom I care for so deeply it hurts my heart.
As soon as you've convinced yourself you are done. You are over him. They come back. Pop up in the worst situations.
They control your actions. They make you feel nauseas. They make you feel terrible. Because you don't want to like them.
In my case, him.
Liking him brings me pain. Liking him brings me heartache.
Because no matter how hard I try. No matter what I do or say. Butterflies mean nothing. They do nothing.
Other than remind me that I will never be anything but his friend.
That I will never have him.
That he will never ever look at me the way he looks at her.