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Deflation.

A funny word.

Maybe not so funny at all, sounds negative, deflation, like when is it ever good?

A balloon deflated. Pool toys deflated. Deflation means the air has left, depletion, all those words that start with “de” and end with “tion” are not all that great, make you feel a little worried, like maybe the choices you made were not the right ones in the end. If things happen for a reason, what is the reasoning behind deflation? Spend mental moments in the mud, or physical moments caught in between breaths, unsure of direction, lacking pace and enthusiasm, deflation continuing to mount like a bubble pop that ruins your night, or your month, or maybe it just ruins a moment and you’ll get over it.

Depriving. Another “de” beginning, I could have added a “tion” to it but you get the gist.

Keep telling myself I am finding positivity again. Convincing myself nightly that this bottle of whiskey won’t end, but when it does, I stare into its nothingness and, again, contemplate this word, deflation, which begins to sound kindred, like I have slept with it a little too long and it has become the addiction I wish I never had.

Modesty, now, I’m not wholly deflated, the optimist in me only hiding until I can live it again like a tickling Pinocchio in the back of my mind waiting for Geppetto happiness to make it real.

And what about deflated writing? What would be left if that happened to me? The sound of empty typing? Or the musings of a guy living in his apartment without whim? Haha. Can you hear that laugh? Haha. I’ll say it again to convince you. Hahahahahaha…longer laughs, no commas to separate the air coming in and the air going out, my writing will never lose me. Positive.

I’ll laugh at all of this one day. Say that was the old me. The new me will be holding grammar and punctuation like a pro, maybe a writing endorsement, or a trophy that says yes, people read what you write. Now that would be nice, wouldn’t it? No more deflation, only appreciation.

There.

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