My Cardboard Balcony

Forgiveness by Belinda Roddie Forgiveness is a meal I'd love to eat, a nutritious breakfast or tasty lunch, a large dinner, and a dessert so sweet that it cleanses the bitterness and crunch of words I've had to chew throughout the day. I've old mistakes thrown back at my head - a word I've misused, or a sloppy play on my tone. I fear that if I'm caught dead attempting to make a name for myself, all my sins will be tossed back in my face. I want to learn and put things on the shelf without winding up publicly disgraced. I know that I must forgive myself first, but the anxiety around it hurts.

I wanted to play video games with my girlfriend, but all of my games had been either stolen by my drunk cousin or scratched to high heaven, and the controllers wouldn't work properly because the cords had been bent or snapped or chewed up by my cat Timmy (who I loved dearly, but c'mon, you little furry brat!). She suggested that we go to Burt's house, as he had the most recent hot console.