A Continuous Journey of figuring it out.

If I could change my name,

I’d change it to Pain.

My arms would be my canvas, 

and my art would tell a story.

If I could change my name, 

I’d change it to Persistence.

Deep sorrow and sadness.

Loneliness and distress.

A lack of interest in anything that doesn’t hurt.

Hopefully, my name would mean something, 

And people would finally get me. 

They would understand why I sometimes don’t know,

what to say next in a conversation,

Because I so eagerly want to escape.

Perhaps my name would be a canvas 

A painting 

that would tell a story of a little girl.

A story of a teenage girl.

And a story of an adult. 

And how, in all of these stages, 

what’s constantly defined me, 

is sadness.

But my name is Shantey. 

A different spelling. 

No defined meaning. 

No characteristic. 

Just Shantey.

But in all of this, 

Shantey has a story.

And her story lives on

through her art of writing.

And if there is anything she knows, 

is that a piece of her heart is worth sharing. 

Perhaps being different is not bad after all.

~ Shantey Moabelo