Author's note: I wrote this creative piece because I used to love playing with bubbles when I was a kid. I thought about what it was like to be a bubble, so I wrote this to get an image into my mind, and others minds.
I started out in no shape in a bottle as a liquid. Then I was being blown from the bubble stick and getting bigger an bigger... Before I know it, I am floating in the air, getting higher and higher... The city is so beautiful below me: The sparkling lights and the occasional voice of a person. I drift through the air watching what is going on in the world. I know that sometime I will have to pop, but now I am trying to enjoy my short life in the air. The breeze carries me on, through the night soundlessly. Just a short time later, I know my time has come. I get too high, then "pop!" I burst. The tiny drops of the bubble I once was fell from the sky and onto the pavement far below. Being a bubble is terribly difficult, but hardly any work because I last for such a short time.
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