I think happiness is like holding onto hundreds of balloons, each filled with a reason to lift your feet off the ground, and before you know it, you look down, and find yourself surprised with how far you’ve drifted away from where you stood. You look on, exhilarated. You’re flying. You’re free. You’re happy. Everything you were scared of didn’t seem to matter anymore, because nothing could touch you. You have never felt so light. And so the tighter you hold on to these balloons, because they are everything you have. And everything that you thought you could ever need.
The journey is beautiful, and you go to places you have never been. The adventure doesn’t stop, the way time doesn’t wait, and you simply drift on. It doesn’t matter where you arrive. There is no destination. There is only the journey. And life has never felt better.
Silly, these balloons won’t hold you forever.
I think the scariest part isn’t looking up and seeing balloons escaping through the cracks of your hand. It’s looking down and seeing the height of which you have to fall. I guess what makes it worse is that you’re no longer where you used to be, where you feet once stood and where it was safe. You got yourself lost, and now you’re about to fall way deeper down, where it’s dark and unknown. And no matter how many balloons you have left, it’s not enough. And I think that is what depression is; The plunge into oblivion.