Always something left over in front or behind this word I am the middle child; a middle of the roader when it comes to decisions. price points, choices. Guess it;s a comfortable place to be after all. Not out in front, not left behind.
She was always in the middle. The middle of her siblings, the middle of her life, the middle years…the middle is boring she decided. She wanted to be on the edge.
Olwen wasn’t her first name. It wasn’t her middle name, either. She just liked the name better than either of her given names. And besides, the way she saw it, people should be called what they wanted to be called.
Straight down the center, the sharp knife made no noise going through her beautiful creation. You can’t have your cake and eat it too. Everyone knows that. But it was still painful to watch him cut into the thing she had worked so hard on like it was nothing. Like it was facile and sweet and pliable.
Oh god, I hope this isn’t a metaphor, she thought.
The show “the middle” first comes to mind; then the song by Jimmy Eats world. idk…I guess the middle isn’t a very good place to be, not the place you want to be. Middle denotes not knowing where to stand; kind of like on the fence.
Feeling so caught in the middle. Suddenly, a task is thrust unto you. You can no longer say no, but you also don’t know if you can do it. Thus, you simply try to do what you can and hope for the best.
Middle names are weird. like people can’t decide between two names so they give you both names and now its this weird tradition. like wth? Why does anyone need more than one name anyway?
The middle of the room, the middle of the universe. Just as well the middle of nowhere. What if there is no answer on how to get from the middle to the corner? What if the middle is where you were suppose to be all along..?
i’m the oldest there
i’m the youngest /there/
i’m stuck in the middle
between them and me
in the middle again
and in the middle of my head
in that space between
the fleshy lobes of my thinking machine
there is nothing
and i’m the middle
just loose connections
Middle school is a challenge. Being the middle child is a challenge in a family. Why is this so hard? It’s not just the beginning and it’s not near the end. Is there a feeling of status quo or uncertainty of where it all fits in? This can be a tough time for kids.
In between the walls, the staircase shot downward in a steep yawn. Upstairs was too hot, he thought; downstairs is too cool. I’ll try and fit my fat butt on this thin step.
So as i stand here i contemplate why i am always never starting, never ending but always in the middle of taking an actual and never completing it. It frustrates me to no end. As it just puts me in this constant state of who the fuck am i. Seriously who the fuck am i.
We’re all caught in the middle of something. We could be in the middle of our family, trapped in the middle of an argument, or in the middle of the political spectrum. I think that even the most deranged extremist has middling views on *something*. Insane, and believe the world should be set on fire? Sure, but he still thinks that tea should be pretty hot but not too hot.
Ori scowled to himself.
“You know, I get that you guys get in arguments a lot,” he said loudly, yanking his arms from the brothers’ grip. “But could you maybe try not to bring me into it?”
“So frustrated sitting here in the middle. The middle of my life. The middle of the week. The middle of the night. The middle of my last idea.”
She said it in the bored tone, not the frustrated tone, so I knew that this would go on and on. The droning. How could I bare one more word of it. It wasn’t the middle of anything. It was the end.
They keep talking about the middle class but with the huge amount of people living in poverty these days the middle class is rising. and that isn’t right. It’s like the polar ice caps melting and making the seas rise. That isn’t heling the water shortage.
She was the middle of everything. The middle child. The middle of fights. The middle of her parents love. She was also the middle of the school children. The middle of hugs. The middle of kisses. Some days she hated being in the middle, as though she were the forgotten one, the one who was only there because she made herself loud enough to be heard. other days she liked being the middle – she could learn from her sisters mistakes and still teach her other sister new things.
My middle is full of important organ and charkras, I’m told. when it aligns with another’s the energy flows intensely. I cherish this gift. I carries my life force, and the life force of my children. How beautiful a duty?
I looked back up at her through strings of my own black hair, trying to push a piece of it out of my face and over my shoulder.
Her lips were a nude colored lipstick, I noticed, as I watched them move in an entrancing fashion.
“That’s pretty cool, I mean I guess we both know what it’s like, huh?” She laughed after her sentence, and I laughed along with her, glad I’d decided to finally go on a date with her.
There was Jimmy and Tammy and Mindy and Sammy, and there I was, stuck in the middle. The oldest were athletes, while the youngest were mathletes, while I turned to guitar and fiddle. They all went off to college to earn shallow knowledge, but unlike my siblings, I stayed in the small little town where I finally found an identity that was solely self-made.
Always something left over in front or behind this word I am the middle child; a middle of the roader when it comes to decisions. price points, choices. Guess it;s a comfortable place to be after all. Not out in front, not left behind.
It’s something between two or more things. Not too much big neither too much small.
She was always in the middle. The middle of her siblings, the middle of her life, the middle years…the middle is boring she decided. She wanted to be on the edge.
Olwen wasn’t her first name. It wasn’t her middle name, either. She just liked the name better than either of her given names. And besides, the way she saw it, people should be called what they wanted to be called.
Straight down the center, the sharp knife made no noise going through her beautiful creation. You can’t have your cake and eat it too. Everyone knows that. But it was still painful to watch him cut into the thing she had worked so hard on like it was nothing. Like it was facile and sweet and pliable.
Oh god, I hope this isn’t a metaphor, she thought.
The show “the middle” first comes to mind; then the song by Jimmy Eats world. idk…I guess the middle isn’t a very good place to be, not the place you want to be. Middle denotes not knowing where to stand; kind of like on the fence.
Feeling so caught in the middle. Suddenly, a task is thrust unto you. You can no longer say no, but you also don’t know if you can do it. Thus, you simply try to do what you can and hope for the best.
I was stuck in the middle of the two of them, I couldn’t figure out what to do. I mean one of them is my wife, the other my best friend.
Both of them screaming at each other over nothing.
What do I do?!
Middle names are weird. like people can’t decide between two names so they give you both names and now its this weird tradition. like wth? Why does anyone need more than one name anyway?
The middle of the room, the middle of the universe. Just as well the middle of nowhere. What if there is no answer on how to get from the middle to the corner? What if the middle is where you were suppose to be all along..?
i’m the oldest there
i’m the youngest /there/
i’m stuck in the middle
between them and me
in the middle again
and in the middle of my head
in that space between
the fleshy lobes of my thinking machine
there is nothing
and i’m the middle
just loose connections
Middle school is a challenge. Being the middle child is a challenge in a family. Why is this so hard? It’s not just the beginning and it’s not near the end. Is there a feeling of status quo or uncertainty of where it all fits in? This can be a tough time for kids.
In between the walls, the staircase shot downward in a steep yawn. Upstairs was too hot, he thought; downstairs is too cool. I’ll try and fit my fat butt on this thin step.
So as i stand here i contemplate why i am always never starting, never ending but always in the middle of taking an actual and never completing it. It frustrates me to no end. As it just puts me in this constant state of who the fuck am i. Seriously who the fuck am i.
We’re all caught in the middle of something. We could be in the middle of our family, trapped in the middle of an argument, or in the middle of the political spectrum. I think that even the most deranged extremist has middling views on *something*. Insane, and believe the world should be set on fire? Sure, but he still thinks that tea should be pretty hot but not too hot.
People are people the world over.
Ori scowled to himself.
“You know, I get that you guys get in arguments a lot,” he said loudly, yanking his arms from the brothers’ grip. “But could you maybe try not to bring me into it?”
sister ball ocean house My brother is in the middle. I don’t like to sit in the middle of a plane.
“So frustrated sitting here in the middle. The middle of my life. The middle of the week. The middle of the night. The middle of my last idea.”
She said it in the bored tone, not the frustrated tone, so I knew that this would go on and on. The droning. How could I bare one more word of it. It wasn’t the middle of anything. It was the end.
the middle of street
I was stuck in the middle of a fight, as always. Never the instigator, never the victim. Yet, somehow, I’m always here, whether I want to be or not.
They keep talking about the middle class but with the huge amount of people living in poverty these days the middle class is rising. and that isn’t right. It’s like the polar ice caps melting and making the seas rise. That isn’t heling the water shortage.
She was the middle of everything. The middle child. The middle of fights. The middle of her parents love. She was also the middle of the school children. The middle of hugs. The middle of kisses. Some days she hated being in the middle, as though she were the forgotten one, the one who was only there because she made herself loud enough to be heard. other days she liked being the middle – she could learn from her sisters mistakes and still teach her other sister new things.
My middle is full of important organ and charkras, I’m told. when it aligns with another’s the energy flows intensely. I cherish this gift. I carries my life force, and the life force of my children. How beautiful a duty?
Apparently we were both middle children.
I looked back up at her through strings of my own black hair, trying to push a piece of it out of my face and over my shoulder.
Her lips were a nude colored lipstick, I noticed, as I watched them move in an entrancing fashion.
“That’s pretty cool, I mean I guess we both know what it’s like, huh?” She laughed after her sentence, and I laughed along with her, glad I’d decided to finally go on a date with her.
In the middle of the room was a black haired boy. He wore white clothing, and never looked up from the ground.
“Hello?” I call out to him. “What are you doing here? Are you lost?”
Then he looked up and I jumped because his eyes were just sockets and his mouth was stitched shut.
There was Jimmy and Tammy and Mindy and Sammy, and there I was, stuck in the middle. The oldest were athletes, while the youngest were mathletes, while I turned to guitar and fiddle. They all went off to college to earn shallow knowledge, but unlike my siblings, I stayed in the small little town where I finally found an identity that was solely self-made.
As I boarded the plane, I found that the only free seat was between a Buddhist monk and a prostitute. This would certainly be an interesting journey.