something cliché

at night it confronts me as would a tent of heavy fabric, wrapped around me and suddenly the tent pole falls. canvas a foot thick presses me down to the ground. i struggle to breathe, to think, to see. i struggle not to feel and to reason away the pain.

this weekend is etched in my mind as an insanely colorful parody of life. a mocking and serious commentary all at once. so much so that i find myself looking, searching for the name 'dali' painted in the corners. it always seems like a good idea. it always seems like he's trying. but im too confused to tell the difference anymore. or to try.

i find now that i have options, and the ability to consider and appreciate those options. then i say to myself that i dont want options, i want stability, maturity, consistency, and love. but i dont have these things.