My Cardboard Balcony

I'm sitting in my room, a headache coming due to frustration alone, listening to pseudo-classical music that leaves no real impact on anyone's memories. I wish I had the option of walking away, but as of now, I must be calculating and careful. God, to have the luxury of recoil! To be able to step back without leaving cracks on the sidewalk!

by Belinda Roddie "Dude, I think this pear juice has gone rancid." "What?" "You know. The pear juice. The bottle of pear juice I got earlier." "...What?" "Hon. Pear juice. Juice made from a pear. The juice that comes from a pear. The juice of a pear. I'm speaking like Kronk right now. Fucking pear juice." "...Pear...juice...?" "...Yeah, man. Pear juice." "That's...that's a thing?" "Hmm. Okay, let's see. A pear is a fruit, and you can use fruit to make juice. So, yes, Aaron, I'd say that pear juice is a motherfucking thing." "..." "..." "That's...weird." "How is it weird?" "John, I have never drunk pear juice in my life. Like, in my life." "...Really?" "Really. And I didn't even know we had any in the fridge. Obviously, I'm not paying close enough attention to shit."...

I finish my hike with you with a smile, a bark-scratched jacket, torn jeans and muddy shoes. After I wash the leaves out of my hair with shampoo, I nestle my tired body down on the couch with you. My bones realign eventually, and I brew enough tea to put both you and me to sleep. The aphrodisiac comes when Mother Nature's kiss is hard to beat, but I'll take it - it's perfect for me.

I made a big decision this week. It's a decision that will affect a lot of things. It will affect my job. It will affect my relationships. It will affect my schedule and my energy and my time. It will cause confusion and a lot of questions. I'm sure there might be skepticism - maybe even backlash. And it's the best decision I've made in a while. I'm prepared to face the consequences of that choice. It was one of the hardest ones I've ever had to make, but I had a lot of support from mentors, family, and loved ones. I am hoping that the most important people will accept that choice, though despite what my anxiety wants, I've never been one to accurately predict the future. I'm not going to clarify what that decision is right now - after all, I'm known for being vague when I can swing it. Ultimately, I don't want to post it until everyone who should know knows. And that means you may not learn what that decision is for months - if you happe...

Self-Preservation by Belinda Roddie Sometimes, you have to think about your needs above others.

You see, this fairy tale does not end with, "Happily ever after." The prince transformed remains a beast, and the damsel remains permanently asleep. Still, she dreams, though not of pretty things; she sees twisted horses with horns and creepy merry-go-rounds. She smells grease and mangy wet wolf's hair and burning sulfur. And she heard, most defined of all, screams.

It's Ten O'Clock by Belinda Roddie It's ten o'clock, and I've never been great at going to bed at the time I should. I was hoping not to stay up so late, but my brain's like a live wire. It's not good, but it's expected. I have done a lot of writing and contemplating as well, making choices that require lots of thought and, of course, a personal dose of Hell. A storm is brewing in my hyper head; anxiety will always take a toll, not remedied by sleeping like I'm dead or doing something mindless, like a whole two hours of games or watching videos. Was this sonnet worth reading? Welp - who knows!