My Cardboard Balcony

So by Belinda Roddie She wanted to be a critic, so she lambasted everyone and everything she loved. So she lost all of her friends in the process because they thought negativity was the worst lens to see the world through. So she began to criticize them more and claimed that she saw things realistically. So she got a job as a critic, so she was known for nitpicking everything that people usually praised, so they didn't take her reviews seriously. So she got belligerent. So she started drinking. So she hiccuped her cynical ballad as she fell asleep outside her apartment with the key half-extended from her blistered fingers. So the landlord kicked her out. So she wandered. So she scathed. So she dug herself a hole beside the railroad tracks and stayed there, so she could curse the world for being unkind to her cracked lens.

When my mom told me I wasn't being active enough, I countered with a morning sprint with zombies roaring in my earphones. When she told me I needed to cool down once in a while, I literally dunked my head under running water in the sink. I always liked to mess with my mom like that - since she never seemed satisfied with my state of mind or lack of equilibrium, I took her advice as literally as possible. Needless to say, she liked talking more to my husband than to me after a while.