My Cardboard Balcony

Happy Friday, everyone. First of all, I want to extend a huge thank you to those who read my May 15th introspection, which I have been returning to and editing from time to time to make sure it best fits my gender expression. The sheer amount of support and kindness that I have received is almost more overwhelming to me than the support I received when I came out as gay in 2011. I know genderfluidity can be a tricky subject because it means I'm sort of non-binary, but the fact that so many of you took my words into account and even told me that you learned something new about gender identity...it just blows my mind in the most positive, happiest way. So thank you again. Okay. Now that that's done with, uh...not much to report this week, really. My new teaching job is wonderful. It's nice to be making more money, of course, but it's also nice to be working in an incredible environment with amazing teachers and insanely talented and smart kids, and just being able to wo...

Let's Hit the Beach! by Belinda Roddie It's summer! Time to swim, tan, and kill a man.

They call me a crook while I rot behind these bars. They can see the bones threatening to burst through my almost translucent skin. They can hear my breaths getting shorter and rougher as I struggle to push through another day in this hellhole. They must notice how sunken in my eyes have gotten, like rocks disappearing slowly into the grit and mud of a shallow creek bed. And yet there they are, screaming for my murder. I figured they would have eaten their fill of my suffering yet. Guess I'm wrong.

I'll Carry You by Belinda Roddie I'll carry you when your feet are too sore for you to walk any further along this barren, endless, and lonely seashore. I'll take where you can hear the sea's song as the wind ruffles the foam and the salt along the waves. We'll count each grain of sand until we get too bored with it. We'll waltz when your feet don't hurt so much. You'll laugh, and I'll do my best bow when the dance has stopped. Back to the car we'll go, and on the way, I'll stoop to pick up each seashell you dropped and collect them, all of them white and gray and mollusk black. Then, when the hill is steep, I'll carry you again while you're asleep.

He approached me from behind, and it was too late for me to react when his arms folded across my chest like taut, browned ropes. In the next moment, I heard a crack, like someone breaking a car window, and a short yelp. I felt my body lurch forward, free from my potential captor, as the man wound up lying on his back with his hand over his now obviously broken nose.

All the Homo by Belinda Roddie Down in the cellar, we feel no shame. Got a bottle of wine and some crisp champagne with your name on it, babe. This evening ain't a no go. We're kissing it out, and it's all the homo.

They told me that the medicine would sting, and sting it did. It was as if my arm had been assaulted by a thousand microscopic knives as I lay on the cot, my elbow unbent and my fingers extended straight outward as if attempting to cling to the clouds or the stars or God or whoever could save me from this pain. My mother stood on the opposite side of the room as I struggled to clench my teeth together, to muffle my screams. An hour later, before the agony had even begun to subside, the doctors administered the next dose.