My Cardboard Balcony

Despite the stress I have coped with so far since August, I am deeply grateful for the people and moments in my life that I have witnessed and endeavored in that time period. From my mentor teachers to my professors, from my coworkers to my credential colleagues, from my friends to my students, from my family to my fiancée. They are the reason I keep going when things become intense or almost too difficult to handle. That being said, I also am grateful for the things I have done thus far in my attempt to earn my teaching credential and continue my work in two jobs, all while still writing at least a little bit of creative fiction or poetry every single day for the past four years. I admittedly don't give myself a lot of credit for certain things that I can or should be proud of. I like to think that I am developing a fair equilibrium between selfless and self-oriented. I also believe my self-discipline has improved drastically since my college days. Besides writing, I have foun

Medusa, Is That You? by Belinda Roddie Jessica's hair came alive. Quite literally. It ate my salad.

I never want to be your rival. I never wanted to compete with you. You put so much value in gold over silver, and how tall the trophy rises on your mantel. All I wanted to do was run. From what, I don't know. Toward what, I don't know, either. The world, to me, is an endless treadmill which I am constantly skidding along on. A moving highway that leads to railroad tracks that leads to the sea that leads to the void.