I'm in a room with other people, blowing up balloons. Everybody around me is blowing and blowing and their balloons are growing and then they tie them off and let them go. I'm blowing and blowing as hard as I can and nothing’s happening. I’m watching these people easily inflating these balloons and I’m getting worried why I can't. I’m getting self conscious because I have very few balloons and everybody else seems to have no problem gaining and discarding their balloons. Sure, everybody has one or two balloons they can't inflate, but it seems like every single one of my balloons has been poked by a tiny needle. The air goes in and comes out; the balloon stays limp. I try, and I try and all I’m wasting is time and hot air.
Sometimes I finally get a balloon growing then suddenly it deflates, making that terrible farting noise and everybody looks over at my failure. I’m crushed at what I did wrong. I am obsessing over what I did wrong. I try to recreate the moments before the balloon deflated, but I cannot remember. Now the balloon is no good; sometimes I try to get it going again, but I know it never will. The balloon is useless. And I keep thinking, is it me? Is it my method? Am I not stretching the balloon enough? Am I not providing a constant stream of air? Are my lungs too small? Why is my balloon collection so small?
“It’s not hard!” and “It just happens!” are some of the “nuggets” of advice I’m given by friends and acquaintances. They don’t seem to understand that I just can’t blow up balloons like everyone else. I must be physically incapable. I swear my lungs are too small or my breath is too potent. Everybody talks about their balloons and some people count them and brag; I can do no such thing as my collection is very pathetic. I want to lie and hide my balloons but I can’t. They are just sitting out there as an upsetting testament to my inabilities.
Most of the time I don’t care about my small collection—I just want to have that big, bright, shiny, red balloon. Sure, everybody wants that balloon and some people have it. But here I am digging through the bag and I can't find one. I feel like I’ve been digging forever. I have blue, and green, yellow, orange, pink but I can’t find the red one. Maybe I’ll like the blue or green, I think. Just try it, I tell myself. Sometimes just looking in my bag at all of the colors and opportunities makes me upset. I can’t do it! I want my red balloon! I am getting tired of this constant workshop of balloon inflating. There is no guidance and it is hard work. Every man for himself, I guess.
I hate balloons.
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