My Cardboard Balcony

Hmmmm. Honestly, I don't see this end of year introspection being much different than last year's. So I think I'll revisit what I typed back on December 30th of 2016 and see how I feel about some of what I wrote.  Don't worry, it won't all just be regurgitating previous thoughts. But I do want to compare my perspective on 2016 to my perspective on 2017. Because God knows, I have a lot to say. NOTE: What I wrote in 2016 will be in italics, while what I write in the present day is...well, not in italics. Pretty straightforward, I think. Okay, here we go. Wow. This has been...this has been one Hell of a year, people. Jesus Christ. Yeah, that hasn't changed. At all. 2017 was not a good year in a lot of respects. Some small battles were won, but mostly ones on the defense rather than the offense. This country is still in a lot of trouble, definitely in more trouble than last year, and our wannabe dictator in the Oval Office is not helping matters. There was a

Is There Still Hope? by Belinda Roddie 2017, you were...quite a year, buddy. Save us, 2018!

How many times do I have to ask the same question until you remember the answer? If the names all sound the same in the end, why give us those monikers and expect them to remain memorized? I'm standing over your bed, Mother, and I see how your eyes have glazed over. They're coated with the sugar grains of past moments that I can't even stomach anymore. We used to sit together on your porch, while you held back screams as the neighbors burned all of their belongings in front of you. You hated the smell of the smoke.