Pretty purple balloon

Imagine a balloon. The prettiest balloon you've ever bought. Imagine it with your favorite color. Think about how big you want it to be, put your lips around the border and exhale with all your power. Imagine you did it well, imagine you didn't laugh, imagine it was meant to be big. But think about what you feel when it goes flying away from you. It was supposed to be the prettiest balloon ever, it was supposed to make you feel happier, but now you don't have it; and again, you walk all the way where it went, you gently hold it between your fingers, and proceed to do the process one more time. What if it goes wrong again? Would you mind picking it up for a second time? What if you didn't really like it as big. Would you throw it away to fly in the wind? Would you look at it while it goes away?

I'm decided to blow air inside my lungs, and try it one more time, even if that means I'm breathless after doing it. I'm positive it will feel like fainting and crashing into a wall of despair; but people say it's worth the risk. People always put it like inflating a balloon is more of the result than the process of holding on to it before you get to set it loose. 

I did, actually. I filled my lungs and emptied them all at once. And it actually did feel like hell. And I'm even more sure now that I'm trying it again next time. Holding on to something made me examine it with deep caution, I was able to study every possible risk this may bring, and every posible enjoyment I could have after all. At the end, it was not the thinking that got me through it, but it was doing what I was supposed to do what brought me relief. I don't recommend this very often, but let go, let loose, let it fly away; and If by some reason you find it back, keep it.