Sphere of unidentifiable orange gas

I am a sphere of unidentifiable orange gas floating near the ceiling of the school gym. I am trying to disperse but there is an invisible force holding me together. I have no desire to conform to this shape. I try to push outward from my centre and rupture my limits but I have no control over my form. My boundaries are so precise and clearly defined that I appear to be solid, but beneath the surface my mass ripples in mutating plumes. I want to set them free. I want to stretch my tentacles tangling through the hall, intertwining with the hair of the students. I want to expand across the city like a sunrise, eventually spreading myself so thin that I cease to exist. But I remain still, round, locked in place. Below me, the girls are playing volleyball. I watch the ball arc high over the net. Just a little higher, a little to the left. If it hit me, it might break me loose, freeing me to move through the world. Or I might swallow it up. It might sink into the larger ball of me and be trapped there, eventually turning to gas itself