saving miller moths

Saving miller moths is a very sad thing.

You see one there, struggling against the window, and you think, I can't let you die in here, slamming your head into a dimension you can't understand. So you say, "Here, come into my hand, I'll take you outside," and the moth flies away, shouting, "I CAN DO IT ALL BY MYSELF." And then it slams itself into glass again.

But this time you don't have a choice, you've already invested time into this moth, so you chase after it with your hand over the glass, saying, "I'm trying to help you, moth, I don't want to hurt your wings," but the moth doesn't listen and doesn't stop and doesn't see the open door.

And you're in this terrible war between good intent and desperation, the moth fighting for independence and you fighting for the moth. There are no glasses or cups in sight, nothing to help you help him, and eventually you just grab him as carefully as possible, tiny heartbeat pounding furiously into your fingertips as you run outside and let go.

You watch him fly away, and then you look at your hands, and see the wing dust on them, and you're crying, "I'M SORRY, MILLER MOTH! I DIDN'T MEAN TO HURT YOU, I JUST WANTED YOU SAFE, YOUR WINGS WERE SO BEAUTIFUL, AND NOW YOU'RE GOING TO DIE OUT THERE BECAUSE OF THE DUST ON MY HANDS I STOLE FROM YOU AND IT'S MY FAULT, IT'S MY FAULT, IT'S MY FAULT"

And this is why miller moths are a sad thing to save.