Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

"Just living is not enough", said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
— Hans Christian Andersen.

Yes, I'd love it if we made it.

I can't eat and I can't sleep. I'm not doing well in terms of being a functional human, you know?

— Ned Vizzini, It's Kind of a Funny Story.


She loved balloons,
so much so that she had one
tied to her wrist

It was a cloud,
a dark one
oddly shaped,
hovering over her.

Fascinated by it,
she let it follow her everywhere
so much so that she could not
see her own shadow anymore.

Sometimes she would take it
into hidden places
where no one could see her
and cry beside it.

It loyally stayed with her
when she ran away to cry 
in the loo, the room, the car,
anywhere away from public eyes.

She didn't want anybody
to see her swollen eyes
or her cloud balloon
as she felt too emotional.

No one would understand
why the balloon stayed
clouding her vision,
blocking the sunlight.

 If only she had the courage
to take a needle
to pierce the cloud balloon
and let it burst into nothing.

If only she had the willpower
to untie the knot
to let the balloon go
instead of letting it inflate.

With the balloon always around
clouding her thoughts and strength,
she couldn't reach out,
because she no longer knew how.



Tell me something I didn't know.


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