I Wasn’t Supposed to Make It Here (Post Midnight Blues)

Originally Written In 2021 |Spoken in 2022| Reimagined in 2025 during a lunch break just me, a cup of tea and K-Dot.

Photo by Caleb Toranzo on Unsplash

This one has a strange timeline.

I wrote it in 2021, in a darker headspace I wasn’t sure I’d ever come back from.

In 2022, it was picked up and performed by a spoken word artist — Arun Kapur 333 based in Wolverhampton, UK.
His voice gave it resonance I couldn’t yet give myself.

But today, while having tea for lunch, looking at the rain from the confines of the coffeeshop, and listening to K-Dot, I cracked it back open.

The rage felt relevant.
The silence felt familiar.
So I rewrote it.
Not polished. Just more true.

You can also listen to Arun’s original version which I originally titled Post Midnight Blues.

I Wasn’t Supposed to Make It Here(Post Midnight Blues)- 2025

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I wasn’t supposed to make it here.
Not past 27.
Not past the glass bottle.
Not past the quiet rage folded into my spine like a backup weapon.

The 27 club?
Always calling.
But I left the phone ringing.

Every day since then feels like an overdue fine I can’t pay.
A delay. A glitch.
I wake up with the weight of my own existence
and wonder if I’ve overstayed in a world
that only sees function.

I laugh on cue.
I teach.
I write things down that sound like truth.
But inside I’m still watching the exit signs
glow red in every room.

Rejoice, rejoice.
They say the broken are the brightest lights.
But I don’t shine.
I flicker.
Hard.

Some nights I hear nothing but
breath and basslines.
No words. No relief.
Just loops of "don't fuck up"
running beneath my eyelids.

They say I’m strong.
But I’ve mistaken survival for strength
so many times
I no longer know the difference.

And yet
I’m here.
Again.
Still.

Wearing this body like a thrifted jacket.
Never mine. Just what was available.

But I’ve stitched my name into the lining now.
And maybe that’s enough.

Originally written in 2021

Performed in 2022 by Arun Kapur 333 (Wolves, UK).

Rewritten in 2025, during a lunch break.

Kendrick was in my ears.
Rage in my chest.
But this time,
I wasn’t writing to disappear.
I was writing to stay.

—Shain

I apologize for being late today, I couldn’t change the circumstances, and I felt bad for not keeping my word, so here’s my small way of trying to make up for it. I don’t take any of you for granted, so thank you for putting up with me being late.

If this stayed with you, there’s more.
One piece at a time. No noise. Just truth.