a good old walk and talk. deep

There they go again, each colour representing a different aspect of my life that has been run of the rails. The strings that i held my balloons with has been cut, and as i stand here on the ground i watch them loose control in the wind. The blue - my depression. All this pent up hurt balled up into a fist of tears. The green - my happiness. All the things that make me smile and set me free with contentment. The yellow - my inhibitions. Dancing in the air, leaping forwards and swaying in beat with the gushes of wind. The orange - my soul. My fiery passion for exceeding and breaking expectations, the engine behind my wild, wily ways. And last but not least, the red - my love. I see this balloon on its own on the horizon, slowly falling to the ground, the life in my red balloon is seeping out from the hole that cupids' arrow made.

One, two, three, four, my feet are rooted to the floor.
Five, six, seven, eight, i'm rooted with my evil hate.

Sitting on the grass, crossing my arms and legs i cry and say goodbye to my balloons. I wish i gave them the space and freedom they needed, because maybe when they did go i wouldn't have felt so helpless and useless and so feeble. Accepting my mistakes and embracing the errors of my ways, the wind stops blowing, the trees fall silent and my feet dangle limp and life-less beneath me as i am raised up. Beneath me floats a cloud to sit on and one by one my balloons come back to me. I hold their strings in my hands but feel a slight disappointment. I feel compelled to let them go. Up and away i watch them fly, even little red musters the courage to swim.

In the spur of the moment i take from my pocket my pouch of marbles. From the cloud i open the pouch and drop the colourful cat eyes to the ground and close my eyes. A feeling of weightless-ness drifts over me and i close my eyes mistaking it for tiredness. one minute, two minute's, three minute's pass before i open my eyes again. The suns arms are hugging me and i awake from my dream.