More Bizarre Balloon References and Insights As To Why I Am A Nut

I laid in bed the other morning staring at the light peering in through the blinds. I was wondering where I went wrong. More precisely, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Why is it that I desperately long for things that others can simply pass up with a slight wave of the hand? I wanted that connection, that feeling of slipping into another’s soul, just one last time. I needed to ingrain a memoir in my mind to read over and over again until I saw him again.

I stumbled around the airport like a vagrant wishing I could pass out underneath one of the endless rows of chairs. I didn’t want to stay in San Diego and I didn’t want to go home. I wanted out of my skin, my so-called home, and my trivial little life.

I woke up this morning feeling slightly more like myself. I was able to wink at myself in the rearview mirror on my way to work. I traded in my needs and insecurities for the insight of understanding another human’s condition. I reminded myself that I am where I need to be right now and kept walking.

And then I read this. I cried like a child who watched her balloon fly away because she accidentally let go of the string. I’m sitting here wondering if my hand was clenched too tightly, or if I was aloof in my task. I’m wondering if anything in this world is ever ours to keep, or if I’m fool to not realize it all belongs to us under predestined circumstances.

Do you remember how easily things come at first? I love the beauty of learning another’s body, while you study their mind.

I’m struggling with a situation with so little information. How do you understand that it’s not you, when someone tells you it’s not? Why can’t it be simple and easy? Why do I feel like I have to ask to be loved, and then ashamed for asking? Why can’t I be content with what I have?
I wish I was the balloon some days. A simple free floating object that drifts over this world with the clarity of distance and reminds people that we can love things that go their own way.

Great. Am I going to start pretending I’m a balloon now?


**As a side note, I could not be happier for Jen. If you don’t read Miss Hot Pants daily, you’re missing out**