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I’ve named this space many different things on WordPress over the years.

Some of them I can’t remember anymore.

To name a few – I’ve been: Glittering Blackness, A Wildflower in the City, Texas Tumbleweed, Tales of a Texas Tumbleweed, Sunny Side Up-ish, Honeybun Heart, Crybaby, and something to do with a kaleidoscope.

In the middle of many nights, I’ve spiraled into needing to re-name immediately.

I don’t know if it’s just part of my personality, being a gemini, trying to keep busy to self soothe my depression, or some other disorder, but I’m always switching from name to name, project to project, list to list.

I never feel rooted in place. I’m never here.

I’m back in the past or somewhere in the future.

So, this final, re-name, for lack of a better word, is the start of the rest of my life. My posts, this time around, span back about a year sprinkled with days, weeks, and months of inactivity. There’s been some consistency, but not as much as I want.

I want, so deeply, to make this space a living and breathing thing.

I’ve never taken my writing seriously. I’ve always yearned to, but life always gets in the way somehow. Better yet, I’ve let things get in the way.

I allowed it.

Now that I’m off of social media and searching for a place to post all of my photographs and videos, it seems like the perfect time to take, not only my writing, but myself more seriously.

I’m not sure what else says taking yourself more seriously than an entire website dedicated to your own words, photos, videos, experiences, memories, and emotions.

Dedicated to The Messy Middle feels right. Like I was always making my way here.

Isn’t everything happening to, and around us, until death the messy middle anyway?

Here’s to me betting on myself. Finally.

Note: if you’re not into scrolling through all of my posts one-by-one and want to read about specific topics – I’ve organized all of my posts by category and you can access that in the ‘topics’ section of the menu at the top of the website with options like poetry, letters, and love.

I still can’t believe you come here to read what I have to say.

–S.

Close – October 2014.

He is 9.

I am 22.

Tonight, we laid intertwined in our parents’ bed. His legs over mine. My left arm under his head. The fan blowing cool air over our rumpled clothes clad bodies. ‘I Heard the Party’ by Gem Club was playing through the computer speakers.

Tears run down the sides of his face. He told me that he remembered this song. I’d played it weeks ago in my room and when he heard it for the first time, he cried.

It makes him sad. When I ask him why he is crying he tells me that he doesn’t want any one of us to die. That he wants us to always stay together.

I promise him that we won’t die.

I don’t want to crush his innocence tonight. I just want him to be able to feel whatever his heart feels while he listens to the song. I know that society will soon try to shut down this emotional side of him. But he has a very big heart. I hope that it always comes out on top.

The second time we play it, tears run down the sides of my face. Although we are not necessarily crying about the same things, we are one. We are feelers. We get deeply connected to things. Our happiest moments seem to be lined with a little bit of sadness.

And we don’t have to talk about it.

We just let the melody and the lyrics of the song do that for us.

Even though we’ve barely exchanged four sentences the entire day – in this moment, we are closer than we have ever been.

Both mourning something that has yet to come and that we cannot explain.

–S.

23 didn’t know that 24 and 25 were going to rock her world.

The twenty-third year of my life was about swimming in an ocean of mistakes and coming back onto land to take chances. Both unfamiliar territories for me, for the record.

There is really something to be said about making mistakes that send you rolling into a gutter. You’re flat on your back. Everything hurts. Something might be broken. Your feet can’t carry you any longer. Some people in the gutter look up and see a pitch black sky. But if you look into the eyes of the others, you see what looks like a million shining white dots.

Stars.

And it’s in these eyes that warriors are born. I’d like to think that after everything that has happened up to this moment, that I’ve fought harder than ever to maintain my view of the stars. To still believe in the good. To not turn off their light. Even when the night almost consumed me. That I stripped away the layers of myself that died in the comfort zones I surrounded myself with and gave birth to a warrior.

A warrior ready to attack life because it’s going to attack right back. I’ve laid in quite a few gutters in the last year and I anticipate that I’ll lay in many more in the years to come. But the stars always light the way for me.

–S.

Royal.

Excerpt from a recent birthday card to my friend.

This day – today – is our BEST day.

Yesterday is gone. It’s never coming back.

Tomorrow isn’t promised.

So, we can plan, write, hope, dream, wish, and fantasize about the future, and that’s all good and well, but all any of us really have is the 24 hours in front of us. And for some of us who woke up today, we might not get to complete our full 24 hours.

Some people didn’t wake up today. Some people lost a loved one today. Somebody was raped today. Somebody miscarried a child today. Somebody found out their partner fell out of love with them today. Somebody’s son was shot today. Somebody’s daughter was kidnapped today. Somebody was handed divorce papers today. Somebody found out their husband was cheating on them today. Somebody found out their wife is pregnant by somebody else today.

So, we need to really start counting our blessings. What we DO have versus what we don’t.

We need to practice gratefulness daily.

It’s obviously easier to have an attitude of gratitude when you feel good about yourself, when you’re happier. But through times of sorrow, of grief, of pain and heartache, we have to maintain those things that we are grateful for.

I know I’ve said – I understand why someone would not want to be here anymore, but I DO want to be here.

Sometimes it gets so dark, and the light is hard to find. It feels as if it might never shine on you again, but we have to realize that the light comes from within. That we are the light. We are the answer.

You’re so beautiful. Don’t roll your eyes or laugh, hear me out here. People tried to break you down. They used you. They manipulated you. Your giving heart and your kind spirit, they took advantage of it. But you persevered anyway. You stayed beautiful inside. You never switched up. You never let the losers and the cheaters and the beaters and the abusers and the fraudulent souls change your light inside.

Did the flame flicker? Yes it did. Does it shine as brightly as it probably should? Not always. But does it shine? Despite all the odds stacked against you. Your spirit is unbreakable, that’s one of the main reasons you are so beautiful. Your resilience.

A TRUE Queen.

–S

A Death in 2014.

My eyes haven’t let the tears fall. I am afraid that if they do – they would never stop.

It was an extraordinary day. We were high on coca-cola and all you can eat pizza. We gathered our tickets together and traded them for a whoopee cushion, three lollipops, a soldier with a parachute, a ball with Patrick’s face on it (Spongebob’s BFF), a yellow plastic man that sticks to the wall when you throw him, a Styrofoam plane, a hand fan with a butterfly design, and a metallic blue spring.

We stepped onto the landmines late in the evening, The first blow took us by surprise. Bringing us to our knees. Frantic voices, mouths moving, unheard words. The blast blew our eardrums out.

We didn’t need the ability to hear to know that more blasts were coming. Every hurried step triggered another blast.

He was dead.

And that is what it has felt like every day since we found out.

The landmines keep exploding. The shrapnel surrounds us. Cuts into the deepest parts of our hearts.

People keep talking. Smiling. Embracing us.

Life is what it has always been.

Wake up. Pee. Brush your teeth.

Shower. Dry off. Get dressed.

Eat breakfast. Walk to the car.

Start the car. Go to work.

Finish your shift. Go to school.

Life is what it always was.

Landmines keep exploding.

The earth keeps on turning.

Days will turn into weeks.

Weeks will turn into months.

A year will come.

Our hearing might return.

–S.

Missing Someone.

I don’t miss the lying,

but I miss the dying,

of laughter.

I don’t know what it is that you were after,

but it wasn’t me.

I wonder and wonder,

but I still can’t see,

there’s no rhyme or reason,

it just wasn’t meant to be.

–S.

Tombstone.

Grieving you.

Mourning you.

You are not dead.

Grieving you.

Mourning you.

We are dead.

Grieving you.

Mourning you.

You live in my head.

Grieving you.

Mourning you.

You love me in my head.

Grieving you.

Mourning you.

I’ll let you go when I’m dead.

–S.