I went to an art gallery last night with some friends and was having a nice time looking around at all the paintings and sculptures. 

All the art was by local artists so there was nothing there that I can reference that you might recognize, but some of the pieces were pretty impressive while some of them were relatively forgettable.

I was by myself when I stumbled upon a painting that was a flower with a phrase scratched into the side. I don't know if this is a famous quote or something the painter came up with, but it said something to the effect of "There came a time when the strain of staying safely wrapped within the bulb was harder than letting go and blossoming." If I'm horribly misquoting your favorite quote then please forgive me, but it was something like that.

So here is this thing. There I am, standing at this painting with people walking past me and I want to cry. It just hits too close to home. I'm not saying

I'm some delicate flower, but the idea that sometimes we stay nestled within a confining situation because we're afraid to see what happens when the bloom occurs is all too familiar.

I quickly composed myself and returned to my friends, but I was mad. It was a lovely piece of art, but I hate how I am at a point in my life where a phrase scratched into a painting can reduce me to tears. 

I'm not usually the boo-hoo type, but lately it really doesn't seem to take much to hit me with something poignant that makes me get all self-reflective — and in some cases — a little weepy.

It would have been nice to have just been moved by the art instead of touched in such a raw way by it. I'm starting to wonder how much worse things will get before they improve.