I always liked balloons, if they were at a birthday party or just hanging around for fun. I liked them for a long time, well, until my sixth grade writing class. She must of been a mental teacher because she made us write a secret. A very personal secret that we would tie to a balloon and send up toward the heavens. Or to hell if it had no helium. She thought this idea would “express yourselves” but us sixth grade students thought it was “killing our social lives”. So, I did it. Not because I wanted to, but, just because I did. The teacher handed me a blue balloon, I tied it on, and it just shot up into the sky. Over and done with, I thought. No one will find out, just only the people over in China, for all I knew.
Over night, a big storm hit. When I made it to school, there was all my friends and all the people I hated gathered around a big tree on the school grounds.
“What’s the matter?” I asked as I realized the problem.
That was the day everyone knew I sleep with a night light and my teddy bear.