People seem to love balloons. They're always handed out to make people smile, to brighten someone's day, to wish someone well, etc. Now I know there are some people who dislike balloons, but on the whole, most people at some point in their lives like balloons. I must admit I had a bad encounter with a clown and balloon animals at my dad's company picnic when I was nine, but I am not completely jaded from the role positive role balloons play in our society.
Now let's say I am a balloon. I'll be one of those shiny silvery balloons with green writing that says something terribly cheesy like, "Dont't worry, Be happy" or "SMILE!". I don't know about that actually. I think I want a nice landscape on my balloons, like a castle in Scotland or something.
So, regardless of that, I am still the balloon that is generally happy, but I am learning what it feels like when a balloon attains a slow leak. It's simply terrible. The balloon is still it's happy balloon self, but there seems to be a sudden realization that all the energy and life that gives it its shape is slowly sneaking out. It's a sad day when a balloon realizes this is happening. Really, it is. How does a balloon re-fuel when it has no arms or hands to put air back into itself? Such a paradox!
I am at the middle of my student teaching, and I feel completely drained. I don't know how to energize myself anymore. I didn't know what was wrong until I started thinking about balloons. But that's my problem.