Yes, I'd love it if we made it.

I can't eat and I can't sleep. I'm not doing well in terms of being a functional human, you know?

— Ned Vizzini, It's Kind of a Funny Story.

————————

She loved balloons,

so much so that she had one

tied to her wrist

permanently.

It was a cloud,

a dark one

oddly shaped,

hovering over her.

Fascinated by it,

she let it follow her everywhere

so much so that she could not

see her own shadow anymore.

Sometimes she would take it

into hidden places

where no one could see her

and cry beside it.

It loyally stayed with her

when she ran away to cry 

in the loo, the room, the car,

anywhere away from public eyes.

She didn't want anybody

to see her swollen eyes

or her cloud balloon

as she felt too emotional.

No one would understand

why the balloon stayed

clouding her vision,

blocking the sunlight.

 If only she had the courage

to take a needle

to pierce the cloud balloon

and let it burst into nothing.

If only she had the willpower

to untie the knot

to let the balloon go

instead of letting it inflate.

With the balloon always around

clouding her thoughts and strength,

she couldn't reach out,

because she no longer knew how.

————————

M.

Tell me something I didn't know.