There is nothing more disappointing than expectations. Expectations are sneaky bastards. They are so small, barely noticeable, practically weightless and forgettable. It is easy to think you have none or very little. Like loose change, they are accumulated without regard, until one day they are an offending, uncomfortable, weighty bulge in your heart that you can’t ignore. One day they scatter to the floor in a clanging explosion, settling around your feet in one swift movement. The sudden interruption snaps you out of your stupor. You stare at the glittering burden in bewilderment: where did all this come from? What did I think would happen?
The noise is jarring. You get on your knees. You pick them up one by one, maybe some by twos. Your job is to recollect. You toss the loose change back in a jar, the scream of belligerence replaced by a rhythmic stream of click, click, click. You handle them carelessly, assured by the lack of weight they individually bear. It’s nothing.
Until you thoughtlessly collect more and more and the jar falls over and the glass has broken into shards too and you realize the weight is unbearable and something must be done about all this… change. Stop collecting so much. They will only scatter again, and you will be the only one here to pick them up.