This one feels slightly less weird — but also very on brand.
Balloons were supposed to be fun.
Party-coded. Birthday-coded. Village hall–coded.
But I was scared of them.
Not floating gently in the corner.
Not tied to a chair near the cake.
The problem was always the same thing:
the pop.
That horrible waiting feeling at parties.
Music playing. People laughing. Someone inevitably squeezing a balloon a bit too hard.
Every balloon carried tension.
Every celebration came with a countdown.
I remember sitting at parties, hyper-aware.
Watching which balloon looked “close.”
Flinching when someone touched one too confidently.
Nothing bad ever happened.
But my body didn’t trust that.
And honestly? That makes sense.
Parties are loud.
Balloons are unpredictable.
And when you’re a sensitive kid, that combination isn’t joy — it’s sensory roulette.
I’m mostly fine with balloons now.
But I still brace, just a little.
Another one for the Fear Files.
Not strange — just a nervous system that wanted to enjoy the party without the jump scare.
🎈
Asten Does Nostalgia 
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