My Cardboard Balcony

The Impracticality of Humor by Belinda Roddie A laugh leaves a throat sore, a stomach aching, and eyes itching with unnecessary tears. Cocktails will only soothe the unnatural pain so much. If you continue to find things funny, I will not stop you. But I am a civilized individual and will not let a hearty guffaw ruin the timbre of my voice, or the calm in my chest. And before you ask me if I'm lonely or sad, stick your brash tongue into your glass of Merlot first and keep it there.

"We hire a lot of diverse people at our business," the CEO explained to me. "Our CFO happens to be a Kenyan immigrant, our financial directors both speak Spanish as their first language, and a lot of our supervisors happen to be part of the LGBT community." I could feel my own eyes light up. "So, do you happen to have room for someone fluent in Cantonese and Korean?" I asked. A smile spread across the CEO's lipsticked face. "Always."

True Goddess by Belinda Roddie You expose yourself to a world that does not obey you, your puckered breasts wrinkling further beneath the salt water in the ivory bath tub, dragging you deeper and deeper into its raspy depths. I see how much you want the crowd to idolize you, but when you are built from brass instead of garnished with gold, the strength is there, but the shine is less appealing. You must buckle your belt and straddle the tongue in a hungry minotaur's mouth. You can leash the beasts without casting your armor aside. Vulnerability does not make you sympathetic. It is only power, as raw as uncooked meat on a steel plate, that sways anyone to drop their own drawers and shake their hips to the rhythm of your sage songs.

He was like a parasite. He leeched onto everything I did - every activity, every passion, every circle of friends I fraternized with - and sucked all the blood and energy out of me every time I was in the house or out. I knew I had to let him go, but doing so was like pulling a tapeworm out of my throat with a pair of tweezers and absolutely no external medical assistance. If I was going to get rid of this soul eroder of a boyfriend, I would need some help.

Six Thousand by Belinda Roddie I dreamed that six thousand genies granted eighteen thousand wishes altogether, but they were all the same, so six thousand people got exactly what they wanted: Long life, love, and happiness in everything they did. Then six thousand witches tried to take it all away, but their wands splintered in the sunlight, and they retired to their holes to ponder their next move.

The middle of nowhere felt more like home to me than my family house had ever been. Now, as I popped open the trunk of my car to fetch a bottle of water, I could feel a strange bubble of comfort growing inside my chest as I looked up at the bare-boned night sky. Without street lamps, building lights, or planes flying nearby, the stars were as multiple as my own far-fetched dreams.

No update on the OneWord website again. We'll see what tomorrow's like.