The Dark Balloon

A weblog by Hao Lian.
A terrible secret guarded by golems.
A note that thanks you for being born, all those years ago.

Scenes from a life from a distance from a time from a place.

You are standing in a narrow hallway of your railway apartment watching two people play the delicate game of putting shoes on while wearing a backpack and managing luggage in three square feet of space. You love one platonically, the other unrequitedly. It has taken you a surprisingly long time to realize this, and it has never struck you more true than now. Today is a day where facts seem malleable. You realize it is raining outside all of a sudden, yanking the soft pit-paps into the foreground. It is gray outside and the hallway is dark and these two people who were your family for one night are tying their shoes in shadow. You will come back much later, alone, and identify the pain in your chest as terrible heartache. You will know that people are not meant to live alone, that this loneliness too is a price you paid for life's choices. You will do more drugs than you should, sit by the internet, and try to cry. You will realize that there is a type of sadness that is so heavy and ill-formed that it prevents you from enjoying even the catharsis of tears. You will fall asleep too early and wake up too late. You will avoid mirrors. You will use the second person. You will be alive.

[(2011 August 15) .]

Abandon your ideas.

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