Balloons

We all have memories. When I was little, my father used to sell balloons. Very colorful ones too. Every day my dad gave me one ballon. Everyone of those balloons are stuck in my mind. They are... Stuck.

Every picture of me has a balloon in my hand or beside me. But I wish I could take them back.... Because those balloons are taking over my life.

I didn't feel good today. I felt uneasy and strange. I lay in my couch anxious, but don't know what I'm anxious about. I then fell asleep. but I had visions of red balloons floating in the air. Dark red. Almost the color of blood. I then woke when I heard a sound... Of rubber squeaking.

My heart sank. I went to see what it was, hoping it wasn't anything I was dreaming about.

But... Unfortunately. A red... Baloon, right next to a picture of me. But the balloon was getting larger, it inflated until it popped! Blood, all over the walls and floor and me.

I quickly ran downstairs to see many red balloons about to burst. I kept reassuring myself it was just my mind. But the sound of the POP. Was just to real.

I'm typing this just to warn you. Good memories can't always be "Good."