Kelly Shade

The Season of “We’ll See” and Other Life Plans Somewhere in the year, we say “we’ll see” with more honesty and less vagueness. It's no longer the lazy version people use to dodge a plan they already hate. But the one you say when you genuinely don’t know yet, and you’re done pretending you do. It’s a strange place to live, mentally. You’re just… in between. Still showing up. Still paying bills. Still answering messages. Still making dinner. But your future feels slightly out

September Smiles Like Trouble September walks in soft and sweet, sun still warm on tired streets. Sleeves stay rolled, the plans stay loose, summer acting like it hit the snooze. You keep the rhythm, late and bright, same old grin, same borrowed night. Tell yourself it’s summer still if you just don’t feel the chill. September smiles at that pretend. Plays friend. Plays fair. Then bends the end. Keeps heat for noon, keeps cool for after, puts warning signs in easy laughter. T

The Price Tag on Creativity or Trying to Be an Art Person in a Broken World (the sad reality) There was a time when being “talented” felt like it might be enough. Not guaranteed or easy, just… possible. Now it feels...conditional, like a nice extra. Something you bring along after you’ve secured funding, contacts, reach, metrics, proof of virality. Talent has become the seasoning, not the meal. And even that is optional if the branding is right. The industry doesn’t advertise

A Summer Affair with Consequences I should’ve known better than to trust a bar with palm leaves painted on the walls. That kind of optimism is always fake. It was August, late enough that the heat had started letting people crawl out and enjoy the night. I sat at the end of the bar where I could see the door and my reflection in the mirror behind the bottles. Old habit. Hard to shake when your job depends on knowing who’s about to enter and why. I'm a man on alert... always.

Ocean air got me thinking in shortcuts, salt in my lungs, all my good sense on mute. I came for the view, the horizon, the calm, left my intentions somewhere back at home. The breeze does a number, it edits my mind, cuts out the caution, keeps only the shine. Hair doing things it refused before, suddenly fearless, suddenly its own. Every reflection feels slightly rehearsed, like the day picked its angles and saved me the worst. I look like someone who knows what they’re doin

The Summer Version of Me Is a Menace The summer version of me cannot be trusted. She wakes up convinced rules are more of a suggestion. She believes sleep is optional, plans are flexible, and consequences are a problem for a colder month. She drinks coffee like it’s fuel and puts on music that makes her think walking is a form of choreography. Winter me has structure. Spring me has hope. Summer me has ideas. Bad ones. Excellent ones. Depends on the mood. She says yes faster.

Summer, After Dark Salt in my hair, the sun sinking slow, bare feet carrying trouble I already know. The air stays warm... it wants me to stay, The night’s got plans that I've got to play The sky turns gold, then fades to blue, and suddenly everything feels brand new. Boards by the wall, skin warm from the day, the ocean keeps time in a steady, soft sway. It hums like it has a secret it won’t fully tell, pulling us closer under its spell. Golden hour lying, saying “just one m

July doesn’t do subtle; it does bold. It cranks the whole world up past control. Long days that glow, warm breeze that calls your name, and suddenly “behave” feels like a game. Rules start to blur. Self-control slips away. It’s not a flaw, it’s just… a July day. That sun hits hard, that heat flips, and “maybe later” turns to a slip. This is my month. My light. My spark. Joy and dances when it's dark. Freedom, no lecture, no “be wise,” just open windows, laughter, and beautifu

There is something irresponsible about summer. Not reckless. But... Just enough to loosen the grip you keep on yourself the rest of the year. Like the breeze whispers, "Relax. You’re alive. Let’s see what happens." And for a few months, you believe it. Summer nights feel like borrowed time. The air stays warm longer than it should. The sky refuses to go fully dark. Even problems seem less urgent when the ocean is next to you. You start making decisions based on light instead

The Night We Almost Behaved We agreed on one drink. That was the lie that made everything else possible. It was early evening on an ordinary Thursday. The place was a bar with low lighting, which was an excuse for bad decisions. The kind of place where people say they’re just stopping by and mean it for exactly seven minutes. I arrived first because I like to know the exits and because being early is a form of control. I took a seat at the corner of the bar, ordered something

The Strange Peace of Not Being Everyone’s Cup of Tea Two of my favorite Eminem quotes are “If you have enemies, good. That means you stood up for something.” and "The best part about me is I am not you; I'm me..." It took me a while to understand how comforting that actually is. Because at some point, you realize not everyone is going to like you. Not misunderstand you. Not disagree with you. Just… not like you. Your tone. Your choices. Your pace. The way you look, walk, talk

I Have a Talent for Turning Errands into Cinema I can’t just go out to buy orange juice. I leave the house with a loose plan and return two hours later with groceries, three unrelated thoughts, a mental monologue, and a scene that could absolutely be the opening shot of something complicated and emotionally unresolved. This is not a skill I trained. It’s a condition. Errands, in theory, are practical. Linear. Dull. You go. You get the thing. You come back. No arc. No tension

I tried to schedule some relief between missed calls and misplaced patience, but the city didn't agree. It said it only accepts payments. So I went where the invoices can’t find me, where the day ends politely, and the sky starts changing clothes like it’s got somewhere else to go. Gold spills out, then thins to blue, pink appears, a beautiful hue. They argue for a moment, then they blend, like they know the drama has to end. People say you need a professional, a clipboard ki

Give Me Magic By sixteen, everyone I knew had a thing. Not an actual talent, just something they could point to when teachers asked what they wanted to be. Something achievable. Acceptable. A future that fit into a sentence. I had none. What I had was a constant, low-grade disappointment with reality. I didn’t say that out loud, obviously. I said things like “I don’t know yet” and “I’m keeping my options open,” which sounded responsible and made adults nod like they’d done th

The report came in with the rest of the overnight logs. Access points. Camera pings. Routine movement summaries. One line stood out because it shouldn’t have been there. Seen at 02:07 AM. The location was correct. The camera was real. The timestamp was exact. What didn’t fit was the person attached to it. He hadn’t been in the building at that hour. He knew where he was. He could prove it, if necessary. Credit card receipts. A witness. A timeline. Still, the system couldn't l

May… with a smirk May shows up like a wink and a dare, half spring, half “I don’t really care.” It doesn’t knock. It doesn’t wait. It leans on the doorframe, runs a little late. Patience loosens. Pride unties. Skin remembers what the fabric hides. Even “maybe” changes tone, Turns into yes on its own. Windows stay open longer than planned. So do conversations. So do glances that start as an accident and end up being "I don't mind". This is the month that smiles back when you t

Find the song on: or on any of the following platforms: Artist name: SH8 [Intro] Something in the air tonight feels a little too easy [Verse 1] July turns plans into suggestions. Agendas blink, notes are changing. Every rule comes with further questions, every “never” switches expectations I wake up swearing I’m in control, I roll, then coffee’s waking up my soul My confidence is slipping, it has other plans The night comes.. slowly I’m changing my mind. And you look like tro

The Myth of Starting Fresh (the illusion of new beginnings) People love the idea of a reset. A new city. A new apartment with white walls and no memories. A new job where no one knows your patterns yet. Fresh keys. Fresh sheets. Fresh routines that feel like they turn you into someone different... someone more "put together". It’s seductive. The fantasy that changing places can change you. That if you change the scenery, the story will change with it. And sometimes it does in

Find the song on: or on any of the following platforms: Artist name: SH8 [Intro] Yeah… No rent, no lease. You’re in too deep. Mind’s a palace, baby, only the strong find peace. [Verse 1] I’m living in my head, penthouse views, high heels on the floor, whiskey, nothing to lose. Could go rogue one night, make a scene like Cruise, then disappear and return in a fresh set of moves. I live how I want, you would do the same, if you knew how to touch pain and turn it to fla

A Stranger’s Password The phone wasn’t hers. She knew that immediately. Too heavy. Wrong case. No cracks in the screen. Whoever owned it didn’t drop things. Or panic. It buzzed once on the café table between her coffee and the window. No notification preview. Just a lock screen waiting for a password. She should’ve left it. Turned it in. Done the polite thing.... Instead, she picked it up. Six digits. No face recognition. No fingerprint. Old-fashioned. She tried the obvious o

Find the song on: Find the song on any of the following platforms: Artist name: SH8 [Intro] Everyone has advice when the story isn’t theirs. Everybody’s brave with advice they don’t own. [Verse 1] Everybody’s brave with advice they don’t own, judging scars they never earned from a throne they call home. “Should’ve stayed.” “Could’ve tried.” “Blood’s thicker,” they claim, said by people raised warm who don’t flinch at a name. They say “family’s family,” like that erase

People like to talk about healing as if it’s a destination. A place you arrive at once you’ve processed everything properly. Once you’ve forgiven enough. Once you can talk about the past without your voice changing. Once you’re calm in a way that makes everyone else comfortable. That version of healing never appealed to me. What actually happened is simpler. I got tired. Not tired in a burned-out way. Tired in the sense... not interested. When you’ve explained your boundaries

The website was minimalist. White background. Black text. One blinking cursor. Enter your offense. What are you apologizing for? She hesitated, then typed. “I hurt someone and don’t want to take responsibility.” A loading bar appeared. It moved fast, confidently. Select tone: • Sincere • Overwhelmed • Misunderstood • Calm but Concerned • Apology Without Admission She clicked the last one. Select relationship: • Partner • Friend • Family • Colleague • Public Statement Family.

I don’t chase disasters, I chase ideas that sprint, I believe in plans that ignore common sense, Big dreams, bad timing, Sometimes both, but if it's in my head...it deserves a shot. I say “watch this” with unearned conviction, Explaining outcomes like a fact, not predictions. I see the ending and skip to the scene, Assume the messy middle will edit itself clean. I mistake momentum for destiny’s nod, If it feels impossible, It already has my vote. If believing too hard is a pe