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I sat beside my window perching my sight at the old brown leaves that had gathered at the base of a tree nearby. When I had shifted to my apartment it was a green bounty while the apple tree beside it was at it's pinnacle of bloom. It was loaded with so many fruits and I pitied that no one cared to take those tiny red globes back home, they were left abandoned on the grassy lawn to be trampled and lie unappreciated while they rot away to their death. Well they were crab apples anyway so they are not meant to be eaten. Who cares! The raging wind outside prompted me to think twice on my decision to go to the rec. The wind and rain period is a transition to the fairy gloominess that we shall have for the next few months.
I love the feel of happiness that surges through me when I run, eat chocolates, look at flowers, dance, ride a cycle and hug people closest to me. So running at the rec to some extent is a way to keep my happiness closer to myself. Floating aimlessly in a pool is also one of the things that I love. I feel like a foetus, away from the bond of gravity that roots me, in fact all of us to the earth. I love being a foetus in the pool, I feel I am starting my life afresh. When I am happy I feel like a balloon floating over a big field of yellow flowers. Therefore it is now known to anyone that since happiness has been equated to a balloon, unhappiness will undoubtedly be a deflated balloon. You don't need to stab a balloon to kill it. You just need to poke a small hole that shall drain it of all its happy air by and by. The balloon as such feels happy floats all around in gay abandon. I don't intend to say gay in terms of loving one of your kind but in the archaic sense. So as the happy air slowly trails out through the fissure, with time the balloon feels gloomy, unhappy and then diseases creep in and the balloon has a nice fall on the earth. Gravity finally pulls it back to a nice place that shall be its grave. Well it's a balloon so it doesn't matter where it finally falls. Wherever it falls, it will be trampled and forgotten forever, while some other balloon meets with the same fate and the loop continues.
I love the feel of happiness that surges through me when I run, eat chocolates, look at flowers, dance, ride a cycle and hug people closest to me. So running at the rec to some extent is a way to keep my happiness closer to myself. Floating aimlessly in a pool is also one of the things that I love. I feel like a foetus, away from the bond of gravity that roots me, in fact all of us to the earth. I love being a foetus in the pool, I feel I am starting my life afresh. When I am happy I feel like a balloon floating over a big field of yellow flowers. Therefore it is now known to anyone that since happiness has been equated to a balloon, unhappiness will undoubtedly be a deflated balloon. You don't need to stab a balloon to kill it. You just need to poke a small hole that shall drain it of all its happy air by and by. The balloon as such feels happy floats all around in gay abandon. I don't intend to say gay in terms of loving one of your kind but in the archaic sense. So as the happy air slowly trails out through the fissure, with time the balloon feels gloomy, unhappy and then diseases creep in and the balloon has a nice fall on the earth. Gravity finally pulls it back to a nice place that shall be its grave. Well it's a balloon so it doesn't matter where it finally falls. Wherever it falls, it will be trampled and forgotten forever, while some other balloon meets with the same fate and the loop continues.
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