Fly With Me. 


The green balloon was lost in contemplation. 
You might see a balloon as a means of unleashing your inner child. Stepping out of your shoes of sanity at first sight, you reach out to steal a balloon from the skies. Often, though, the balloon flees from your hopeful clutches and rushes to embrace the ceaseless expanse of the sky. 
On the other hand, you may not understand balloons. You see balloons as hollow bags of air. Even when a balloon comes rushing toward you, gushing with exuberant anticipation, you choose to look the other way. You might watch a balloon from afar with distracted curiosity, but you’ll never stretch out your arms for one. 
Yet, after all, balloons are meant for the skies. They might hold a skilfully veiled desire to be held down, just once, but deep down they know that they’d be happier afloat. They’d miss the clouds and the winds of change a little too much. 
The green balloon floated on in lonely content. When it finally burst- filled to the brim with words unsaid, not a soul knew; not the ones who had reached out for it because they had given up, not the ones who hadn’t reached out because they’d never tried. 

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