my expectations are a red, helium-filled balloon, in the innocence-laced hands of a five year old boy. he tries to keep it down, but the balloon merrily bobs back up of its own accord, until finally, it breaks free. it soars and soars, despite the attempts to keep a hold of it, until the boy can only watch it, head tilted back and eyes hopeful. but as soon as the balloon is a barely visible red dot in the blue blue sky, it POPS, scattering into a thousand pieces back down to earth.
and that little boy is left holding the ragged scraps in a tight fist of reality...