I just realized that for the past two, maybe three months, there’s always a balloon (or balloons) in my room. I just love balloons.

I don’t know what it is about them that’s so… cheerful. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re light and bouncy. Maybe it’s how colourful they are. It’s a rubber sack filled with air. How do I find it so fun to look at?

Just so you know, I’m 17 and I still stop in my tracks most of the time or slow my walking pace each time I spy a balloon floating by. (Sorry, can’t help rhyming.) But it’s what happens.

When I think of balloons I sometimes feel sad too. Especially helium-filled balloons. They have such short lives. Just a few hours. Well except for those gigantic ones.

Even normal balloons don’t last long. A month or so, if you’re lucky. Makes you think. Well, it makes me think, at least.

I wanna be like a balloon. I want to make people happy just by being me. It may be something small and simple, but if it brings a smile, then why not?

And to do that, I guess I’ll just have to be a better me. :)

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