The Short Sad Life of a Red Balloon

June 3.

Ok, I admit it. I've got trust issues, but how can I not knowing that myself and my friends are destined to be passed around from human to human. We are not masters of our own fate. Sigh. I need to take control of my life. It's almost like I'm tied down by some string. Oh, wait...

What? You think I'm a pessimist? The truly sad part is that I'm just a realist.

June 4.

I wasn't chosen today, but my friend was. He's a blue, whale-shaped balloon. I overheard the cashier say something about a baby shower. It sounds strange. Humans are strange. For all I know, baby showers could be a mass gathering of big humans showering little tiny humans. I'll have to remember to ask Forest about this ritual. Anyways, everyone seemed excited for my friend to leave. I, on the other hand, have doubts that his new home will match up to his expectations.

June 4. (Later)

I asked Forest, the oldest balloon on the cart, what a baby shower was. He said it's a party pregnant humans throw so that they can get supplies for their babies. I guess that makes sense. Then, I asked him something else. I asked him why everyone was so caught up in being chosen by a human. To this he replied,

"Little one, the life of a balloon is a life short lived. All we can do is hope to make a difference for someone."

That threw me for a loop. I don't feel like I owe my life to any human. Frankly, I don't care if I stay on this cart until my last air particle goes flat.

June 5.

So, this guy came to the cart and said he needed two balloons. He said he needed a red one and a pink one. The cashier handed me and Rose over to the guy. The guy said,

"Thanks, man, you're saving my life right now."

Rose and I looked at each other, confused. When he took us out to the parking lot and put us in his truck, she seemed so happy. I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to spoil Rose's mood, but in the back of my mind I was still nervous about our fate. Forest's words echoed in my head.

June 5. (Later)

Today was great! Now, I know why everyone wanted to be chosen. You should've seen the look on her face. She was sooo surprised.

First, the guy picked up some flowers on the way home. That's when things started to make sense to Rose and I. We knew enough about human culture to know that flowers were given as a symbol of love.

"Ohhh this is going be to so romantic!" Rose whispered to me.

"Shhh, don't let him hear you," I warned her. She nodded, but I could tell she was having trouble containing herself.

When we pulled in to the driveway of our new home, Rose was almsot shaking with excitement. To be honest, it was making me uncomfortable. Things changed when we got inside. A woman was sitting at a table, all dressed up. She had on a red dress with pink polka dots and lots of make up. The guy pulled our stings low and hid us behind his back with the flowers.

"You're late," the woman pouted.

"For what...?" the guy pretended not to know what she was talking about.

"Oh my gosh, Joe, don't tell me you forgot." she buried her face in her hands. He chuckled and held us out to her.

"How could I?"

To this, the woman jumped up and went into his arms. They hugged and smiled. Then, she looked up at him and said, "You had me worried. You remembered we're going out for dinner, too?"

"Of course," he kissed her on the forehead. "Just let me set these down and we can go."

And with that, he set the flowers on the table and left us in the corner. That's where we've been all night. Rose keeps talking about how sweet it was that we were an anniversary gift. I have to admit, it was cute. It might not be so bad here, afterall.

June 6.

The couple came back late last night. They were kissing a lot and the guy carried her down the hallway, out of view. I raised an eyebrow out of curiosity. Humans behavior is complex, after all. Rose just smiled in complacency and said, "Look how happy we made them. Doesn't it make you feel good?"

"Sure," I replied, with a weak smile. The truth is that I don't feel good. Is this a sign that they've already forgotten about us? No, I can't think that way. I'm sure the rest of today will be different.

June 8.

Hmph. If the others could see me now, they'd change their minds. Rose only lasted a day. The stupid cat beast dragged her by the string and she hit a wall decoration with a sharp edge. She popped. When the couple came home, they carried her, in pieces, to some foul smelling container under the sink. They left her in there. As for me, my helium levels are depleting by the day. I'm literally sinking into a drepession. The humans only paid attention to us for a day. Even the cat has stopped playing with my string. I'm not sure how much longer I have, but I don't want to go out the same way Rose did.

June 10.

No! Wait, no! I've been popped. She carried every last little piece of me to the trash. I was supposed to mean something. Now, I lie on top of last night's macaroni. It's my fault. I lost my air. I wasn't pretty or special enough.

Forest would suggest that, perhaps, I could find solace in the look on her face when she saw me. The happiness it brought her. It does feel good to evoke such strong emotions from another being. It just hurts to be stabbed in the back. I was a gift, a present, something to be admired. Yet, this is the thanks I get. This is the thanks Rose gets. If only the others knew. They wouldn't be so excited to be chosen by a species with such little regard for others.