Creative Column: ‘My Bubble’ by Sean Drury

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When I was young, I stepped into a bubble that floated past
And knew at once this was for me – I had to make it last
Some friends knocked on my door, and asked if I wanted to play
But I thought the sun might burst my bubble, so I said “maybe another day”

I took my bubble with me to school, but nobody seemed very fond
So instead I ate my lunch with the ducks, over by the pond
I watched the other kids, who seemed happy in their lives
And wondered how they managed it, without a bubble to live inside

Fast forward seven years or so, I’m still inside the bubble
I’m a model student, top-grade marks, and I never get in trouble
But my bubble, once so liberating, has become a restrictive ceiling
I watch my friends grow up and fall in love, and I want to know that feeling

As I head off to university, my parents think the bubble has burst
I can’t bring myself to tell them that it’s only getting worse
My new flatmates go out partying, and I reluctantly tag along
But my bubble can’t protect me from a place I don’t belong

If I tell someone about my bubble, they can’t seem to understand
They laugh it off and ask me, with a dismissive wave of hand:
“If you hate being trapped in a bubble so much, then why don’t you just pop it?”
I want to make them understand, but usually I just drop it

So if I’m trapped inside this bubble, then here’s a bright idea:
If my bubble touched another would they both just disappear?
If someone burst my bubble, I could burst theirs, we’d start anew
But how do you find someone else with a bubble when theirs is hidden too?

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