oh! ah! ugh! kicked in the stomach!
dashed expectations, even when you know that they're foolish, even when you expect that they'll be quashed, will always make a little part of you fold in upon itself.
and you think about it and dwell upon it for far longer than the that moment of tragedy (because tragedy is so much more tragic when it's called that) is worth.
and the part of you that's proud and haughty and full of yourself puffs up just a little and starts to speak with a certain degree of authority, and sorts out the lives of those around them, and sometimes that comes at a good time. and sometimes it doesn't. but dammit, gotta make up for that punch in the gut somehow!
and then when you're left alone and you don't have anyone else to tell stories with, or dance around with, or to give more pages of copy to, then that little part that folded in wilts just a little more, and you slouch just a titch, and there's a little tiny hint of a sad sigh that might be heard.
and then you call someone up for bubble tea and all is well again. because you knew it was gonna happen anyways.
it's boring to be right all the time . . .