Hello, weirdos! 🌟
There’s a story I’ve been wanting to share with you, and it’s one that’s been on my mind for a while now. It’s about unicorns — or is it?! 😉
This is a tale that, on the surface, may seem whimsical and lighthearted. But if you read closely, you might just find it’s about something deeper. What happens when we try to control what’s rare, beautiful, or unique in the name of safety or comfort? And what does that say about us?
Are you ready to dive in? Read on to see where this story takes you…
That’s Why We Can’t Have Unicorns
Because feelings are sharp and horns are sharper
There is a place where the unicorns grow up safely.
Softlight Nursery #7 is tucked behind lavender-colored gates, next to a gluten-free cupcake shop and a trauma-informed yoga studio. It smells faintly of lemon balm and unshed tears. Inside, the floors are sponge-cushioned and the walls are painted with murals of calming clouds and motivational slogans: “Every Sparkle Matters!” and “Your Softness is Your Strength.”
The unicorns live in communal stables, each with their own silk-padded corner and emotional support plushie. At Softlight, every day begins with a guided breathing session and ends with a gentle brushing of manes — long, lush bangs encouraged — especially if your horn is starting to grow in.
Because, of course, horns are a little bit… problematic.
It isn’t the unicorns’ fault, not really. Horns just are what they are — sharp, pointy, hard to regulate. And no one wants to see another accident like the Incident at Stable 3, where a horn poked clean through the Relaxation Mural.
And so, every Tuesday and Friday, the unicorns line up at the Care Wing for their scheduled “Gentle Horn Recalibration.” A soft file is used. No razors. There is lotion afterward. And a juice box.
“It’s not a punishment,” say the caretakers. “It’s protection. For everyone.”
And the unicorns nod, because they are good, good unicorns. Especially Juniper.
Juniper is everything a Softlight unicorn should be. Thoughtful. Mindful. Compliant. Their horn never grows more than a nub before they report it, mane swept perfectly over their forehead. They hum during group therapy and clap at the end of community feelings circles. They believe in kindness. They believe in safety. They believe in the rules.
Until Lucien arrives.
Lucien is… different.
He doesn’t sign the Harmony Contract. He doesn’t brush his mane. And when his horn begins to poke through his hair — a glimmering twist of defiance — he doesn’t report it.
Whispers spread fast. The caretakers speak in hushed tones. Lucien is assigned “Accelerated Reflection Sessions.” He never complains. He never explains. But he also never bows his head.
One morning, Juniper finds him sitting alone in the courtyard, head tipped toward the sun like he’s daring it to blind him.
“You’re not afraid?” Juniper asks, barely audible.
Lucien doesn’t look at them. “Afraid of what?”
Juniper doesn’t know how to answer. They’ve never had to explain. Fear was the air — everyone breathed it, together. Politely.
They sit beside him, in silence.
Lucien is gone the next day. No explanation. His name removed from the community board. His corner cleared out. The plushie left folded, untouched.
The same afternoon, Juniper’s horn begins to grow again.
They say nothing.
They stop brushing their bangs. They skip one filing session. Then two. The stares begin. The whispers. One caretaker gently offers a floral headwrap. “Just until we can get you scheduled again. We know it’s not your fault.”
Juniper says thank you, and does not take it.
On Tuesday, they are called in for recalibration.
The room is soft and white. The file rests on a velvet cushion.
Juniper stands at the door.
The caretaker smiles. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Juniper doesn’t move.
The caretaker’s smile falters. “We understand it’s a hard time. But you know the protocol.”
Juniper takes one step forward. Not toward the cushion. Just forward.
They lift their head.
The horn is small. Barely a bud. But visible. Honest.
Raw.
“Why aren’t you hiding it?” the caretaker whispers, eyes darting to the corners, to the security cam blinking quietly in the ceiling.
Juniper breathes in.
“Because it’s part of me,” they say.
And then they turn. And walk out.
No one stops them.
Not because they agree.
—
That’s why we can’t have unicorns.
Because feelings are sharp, and horns are sharper.
—
What’s this story really about?
It’s easy to read it as just a quirky tale about unicorns, but it’s meant to reflect on something bigger: the way we treat what’s different, what’s unique, what doesn’t fit the mold.
The truth is, we live in a world where safety and control are prioritized above freedom and individuality. In trying to protect everyone from everything, we sometimes stifle the very things that make life beautiful and worth living. In the end, beauty, freedom, and even art require a little risk. Sometimes, the sharp edges are what make something truly worth cherishing.
What do you think this story is really about? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Drop your guesses in the comments on our Instagram post!
💜
~ Weirdolight
The Dream?
What do you think this story is really about?
Take a guess — what inspired this dreamlike story? What was the original dream about? Comment on Instagram!
Magical One
Who is your magical person?
Does this story remind you of someone — your real-life unicorn? Do you have one? Tell us about them in the comments: Celebrate them on Instagram!
