My Cardboard Balcony

I wanted my self-esteem back. I wanted control back. I wanted to harness all my pent-up anxiety like a horse and save it for later, for something more productive and less damaging. I wanted to actually love my job again, but it was so hard when I was picturing scratch marks all along the walls, and angry words directed right between my eyes, like blunt bullets. They wouldn't leave a hole or puncture, but they could certainly bruise or dent.