Balloons

I don't know how true this is, but I could almost swear it's mandatory in all high school French classes across the country to have its students watch "The Red Balloon."
(I'm being sarcastic)

I connected with it, even tearing up at the end.
(I'm not being sarcastic)

Balloons-- I hate those shits, but I also find those pieces of shit do a great job at describing my life.
In person, balloons make me panic. I HATE when others pop balloons, and I freak out when I see kids biting balloons.
But using balloons for metaphorical purposes? Boy, they get the job done.
Balloon-- looked like one for the majority of my life... all round and corpulent and... inflated.
Balloon on a string-- I feel like one when things start getting out of hand. I feel... I feel as though I am drifting away, slipping out of the firm grasp of a kid that keeps me grounded. Float away, float away, and away... further away from reality... from everything I know and comforts me. Away, to the unknown.
Popping my balloon-- that happens the majority of the time. My hopes are popped. My dreams are popped. My heart-shaped ballon is always popped with a fucking harpoon, all the time... all the damn motherfucking time.

Then come the moments where I feel the gentle tug of my kid... a family member of the kid... someone who knows me, and begins to pull me back to the happy reality I once knew. I'm rescued from aimlessly flying out into the atmosphere... and reminded who I am, and why I love being who I am.

I don't know... I don't make sense.
I just know I love my friends... and am reminded of how much I fucking missed them in my life.
I aimlessly wander through the world... quietly, completely alone... sometimes sad, sometimes apathetic, often curious, many times excited... but still aimlessly. I convince myself I'm this person... this terrible, solitary person... and then I feel the familiar tug of a friend... a really good fucking friend, and I am gently reeled into the fact that some great people are part of my life... and they just know how to turn me into the REAL me.
I am not shy. I am not sad. I am not mad.
With these people, I'm comfortable, I am laughing, I am happy, I'm talking.
I remember the awesome times we had ten years ago, look around at our present, and feel thankful we're still capable of making one another laugh hysterically, able to continue to make more enjoyable memories.

I look around and still find myself smiling.
One is married.
One is engaged.
I am still very much single.
The three musketeers at three different stages in life, but we're still fucking laughing together.

I don't know... I just really needed these guys to pull me back to reality, more than I knew... and I feel so very damn good now that they did.