Thimble Tack Time

Picture a giant ball.
A ball so big it has to be lifted with a crane.
The crane breaks.
The ball is that big.
The ball grows even bigger.
You stand next to it.
Your nothing more than the size of a thimble.
The ball is made up of thoughts.
And feelings.
From a single person.
Inside of the ball is...
Nothing.
The ball is hollow.
The hollowness rings true.
With the hollowness comes a pain.
A hollow pain.
A pain like unto super glue.
Never subsiding.
A pain with nothing pleasant to gain.
The ball grows on.
In my head.
Jump of a cliff.
Get rid of the ball.
The ball is filled of air.
And floats.
A floating head.
Not falling off a cliff.
A floating head.
Floating off a cliff.
I need to find a tack.
To pop the ball.