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I am a teddy bear, aching for hug, a bird, waiting to be fed. Or an owl woken from a shotgun, a fog, fading away, a tree, falling down. But no, I am more like a balloon, a red balloon.
A red balloon, waiting 20 years on the shelves just to be bought. in a store that always had its windows covered. With no sign on top, with no one ever coming to the store. Kids never knew there was a store, full of balloons for birthday parties. It seemed as though the owner never wanted to sell any thing, he said he wanted all of them for him self.
But one day, a little girl came in. she found the existing secret of the store. She had dark black hair with green eyes and a fake smile to prove she deserves the balloon. She said she wanted to buy the nicest balloon there was for a friend. She had her eyes fixed one me. She bought me, gave me to her friend, trying to prove she's sweet.
Her friend was a child, careless about things except what pleased him. He blew me up just so I won't pop, tied me with a ribbon, and shown me off to every one of his friends. I was a balloon he could be proud of. I was red and shiny, with wonderful pictures, with true air making my inside so visible. The ribbon was really what made me what I was, pretty and shiny. With out the ribbon I was a piece of red plastic lying here and there with nothing inside. And now I knew I would have stretch marks that would make me even more worthless. My ribbon was not very long. I couldn't get any farther then the ribbon allowed me to. My ribbon was heavier then my own weight. Choking me far more then I could pretend it wasn't when I tried to push my way through my wishes. I wanted to untie it and be free, wanted to fly in the sky, with the wind blowing, cheering and clapping, leading me closer to be with angles of god that made dreams come true. I never knew what I could see from higher above since all I wished was to fallow a child running and making quick turns to loose the others that were chasing him with laughter. The laugh of a child was what I was made for. The joy of happiness was all I cared about. The smile of a satisfied sole was what made me dance. Days were passing by. I was losing time to prove myself. To prove I am not just a balloon for decoration. To prove I am not just a red balloon. How sad! Who's going to believe I am not just a red balloon. Who is going to listen to my wish? Who will see the angles I do? Who will know the soft touch of wind is a blessing? My ribbon was losing hope in me. The naught was getting loss. And I was getting smaller and smaller. The smaller I got, I lost more of what I had inside, I was getting darker and darker, the darker I got the harder it was to see through my skin. Worst of all I was coming lower and lower to earth. To the soil humans Barry their dead. The soil every thing will once end up as. The little boy lost interest in playing with me. Because now I was ugly and worth less. Till one day he started poking me till I pop. And so I did. Every piece of me flew out of his hand, and landed so far away from each other no magic could ever make me what I once was again. I will wait for that magic to happen. To find out whether it was my fault or the ribbons fault. But only this time, time will not stop me from being with angles of god.
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