I came home with a heart full of art and explosions and I thought it might burst out of my chest. (It did, onto my shirt. We took a picture.) But it took only a few minutes back in the real world before I was let down again – business as usual. Nothing but the rotten smell of spent fireworks surrounding me.
Give me something to work with. I can’t keep building realities out of ashes. Not even false ones. Not even pretenses. There’s only so much to go around. I’d have more than enough, except I keep giving it all away on the promise of something that never materializes.
Not this again.
I have no more time for this.
