The Bubble

I live in a bubble.

A bubble is not like a box, in the sense that it is round. Spherical. But. A bubble is like a box, in the sense that it is closed in. After all, it is just a sphere of air, a little atmosphere I call mine. You can see right through it, and on the surface, you can see many colours of the rainbow swirling madly.

Undoubtably, it is a bubble.

It is easy to feel claustrophobic in such a bubble. After all, there is only so much air inside it, and no way to add more. A bubble's life is short lived. Either something from the outside pops it, or the air inside leaks out and it slowly fades away, as bubbles tend to do.

Sometimes due to its incredible lightness, the bubble can drift high into the sky. But a bubble can only take so much pressure. When it gets too high internal pressure exceeds external pressure. The air is thin up there, and the bubble cannot exist under such circumstances.

And then.

I fall.

I have seen such things occur.

It is very high up, mind you, so inevitably...well, that ending is obvious.

It is a lonely life inside a bubble. There is the common misconception that we are flighty in our thoughts. No, but everyone knows that the bubble people are never truly happy. We go with the wind, and if it doesn't suit us, well, too bad then.

You can get used to living inside a bubble.

But then it depends. How long can you live inside a bubble, until the time comes for it to expire? I think, that by the time you have gotten used to bubble life such as I, that well, all you have to do is

Reach out your finger,

Like so...

And touch...

the..


bubble



.


And as I fall all I can think about are the swirly colours, dancing madly on the surface of the bubble.

They know best of all what it is like to live in a bubble.

For who knows best, than a bubble itself?