The Balloon


People used to think I was light and airy. They thought I would end up stuck in a crowded room full of people trying to have a good time night after night until I eventually deflated.  They never knew I had ambitions. I wanted to make it to the top. I wanted to be more than just a fluttering socialite who was made to look pretty.

One afternoon when I was walked across the street, I fell in love with the sky. He was such an ocean of curiosity and independence. Unlike the ceilings I kept bumping up against, he was something different. He was mysterious and somewhat blue which made him all the more fascinating to somebody like me.

One night when the ceiling was beckoning me again, I started to lose myself. The low lights felt hot and smothering and everything about the small apartment party seemed limiting. And then it happened. It was as if I were completely outside myself. My body expanded with a hope that made me feel like I was going to explode. With no one to hold my string, I soared further and further above a crowd of people until I quietly drifted out the window.

“I’m coming,” I said to the sky. And even though I knew I’d never make it that high, the power lines didn’t seem so low in the tinted gold of late afternoon light.

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Photo by Kiyara at

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