My Cardboard Balcony

I've Been Feeling by Belinda Roddie I've been feeling a bit like teenagers do when they're confronted with challenges and adulthood. And yet, I'm twenty-eight, and I'm consumed in grown-up craziness. I'd never want to relive high school years, but less responsibility sounds nice, and I would love to sneak out with my peers for dumb shenanigans after midnight, raiding gas station marts for junk food, and trespassing on abandoned property, counting the stars in the sky all by hand and whining about our boring city. I'd never want to be sixteen again, but was my life much easier back then?

It was another night to dance; it was another night to waltz. We kept up with the time signature as much as we could. We counted in threes, and only threes. Your black shoes left black scuffs on the white floor. The hems of my white dress grew black around the edges from dirt and dust and shadows. When the orchestra stopped playing, we stopped and collected ourselves. Perhaps we were now too old for waltzing.