My Cardboard Balcony

Deep Breaths by Belinda Roddie Just three more days. Just three more days. Almost there.

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Indulge by Belinda Roddie I had gyros and wine to fight back the rage.

Okay, yes, I know I actually posted this on Saturday, not on Friday. It's been a hell of a week, all right? Our new cat, Spike, poor thing, had to be taken to the vet for an infection in his mouth. Biopsy results arrive on Monday, and I'm really hoping it's not cancerous. He's recovering steadily with antibiotics. Three more school days left, and on Sunday, I'm flying to Denver! More info on that next week. It's Pride Month. I'm gay. I'm non-binary. They/them pronouns. Love how far we've come, but acknowledge how far we have to go. Light at the end of the tunnel, y'all. Looking forward to my break. Oh, and I'll be 32 in a matter of weeks. Wooooot. ...I don't know how to finish this introspection. Oh, well. Have a great night and a great weekend, everyone.

Recovery by Belinda Roddie My boy is getting better and that is all that matters My boy has braved some weather and that is all that matters His healing's what I like and that is all that matters I am so proud of Spike and that is all that matters

Not Healthy by Belinda Roddie Drinks, drinks, and more drinks. She wanted to feel numb.

Sometimes by Belinda Roddie Sometimes, I feel as if I'm on the brink of either glory or pure disaster. I flip a coin to either float or sink into the abyss of the universe that plays dice with me every goddamn day. I cry for tiny lives and scream for more time, though anxiety's the price I pay for this morass of bayou brain. Adore me if you will, but know we'll both teeter on the edge of this precarious cliff that leads to Purgatory - not Hell, nor Heaven, but where with tired hands, we'll sift through guessing games and questions unanswered, never to be answered, our vision blurred.