[i'm]perfection

There's no such thing as a perfect human. There couldn't be even if I believed in such things. "Perfect human" is a definition oxymoron. (As is "normal human" but that's another discussion)

All of us are the sum of our actions. Think about it. When your friend mentions someone, what's the first thing your mind goes to? "Oh, so-and-so? Is the one who did that small, insignificant thing that one time?" Yeah. Case and point.

I guess I've been wondering lately if people change. Do I believe people can change? Can I? Have I? If I did something once, what's the possibility of me doing it again? Even if the thing was a horrible deed that I would never want to do again... What distinguishes between mistake and habit? How do I know if it was a one-time thing or the beginning of a pattern?

I'm scared. I used to not trust other people. Now I'm not sure if I trust myself. If I can be trusted. If should be trusted. I don't think I want to keep another man's heart only to break it. I don't want to cause anymore pain.

We're supposed to learn from our mistakes. What have I learned? Did I even give myself time to learn? Sit back and look at my choices... I'm trying to put everything in order much too late, I think.

One day I'll have the answer to all these questions.

One thing's for sure though: I can't do this anymore.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

so chris taylor can think he's demanding

"Blood Bayou" pt 2

After this night, all will be changed.

Her words lingered in my ear. I didn't want to think much about this night or what she meant by that statement. My thoughts begin to trail back two nights before this...

I'm in the bar, sitting there with a half-emptied pint in my hand. I sip it slowly, not in any rush to return home because, honestly, there's nothing left for me to go home to. My thumb idly brushes against the handle as I let my thoughts sink into the deep, amber liquid inside.

"Got somehtin' on yer min' der, eh James?" The bartender says but I don't hear him.

"I say, James, it ain't gonna drink i'self wit ya jus starin!" he muses, a bit louder this time so that not only I hear him but the two men sitting on either side of me turn their heads in attention as well.

"Oh, uhm, sorry Domino." I take a big gulp, grimacing as the liquid burns its way down my throat. "Better?"

Domino fixes his mouth to make what I can only imagine is a smartass comment when his attention shifts to the door. A hush has fallen over the bar and all the patrons have their heads turned towards the door as well now.

I follow suit and find myself staring at a very strange individual. He stumbles in, a noticeable gait in his stride, hobbles over to the end of the bar and motions for Domino to poor him a drink. He nods. The place is silent... save the sound of the stranger's drink whishing into his cup. Those that seem to know him watch the bar with a suspicious glare. Those that don't fear him all the same.

I was no exception.

My mind is racing with inquisitions. But I know better than to voice them now. Slowly, the other patrons begin whispering, murmuring, muttering until the place is filled with conversation and laughter once more. A few people still side-eye the stranger as he drinks in solidarity but there is no interaction.

When Domino comes to refill my drink, I give a slight inclination of my head towards the end of the bar as if to say What's this about?

He shakes his head. You don't want to know.

Fine. I shrug.

Two refills later, drunken light-headedness begins to set in. The bar becomes a blur of dim light and sound. Now, I am ready to go home. I drop some money on the counter (probably much more than the cost of my drinks now that I think about it)and make my way out of the bar. Everything is spinning. I feel sick. A cool sensation graces my face. I'm laying on the gravel.

The sound of approaching footsteps grows louder. "You're much sadder than I thought." A voice says.

A shadowy silhouette is all I'm able make out. I say nothing. I just want to lay in the street and wait for death.

"James Bordeaux..."

"How do you know my name?"

"I know much more than that."

Then, he begins telling me of a way I can solve all my problems. He describes a woman like no other; a woman who could help me. My interests are peaked. "Where can I find her?"

He gives me the directions. Of sorts. I am to venture into the deepest parts of the bayou. Not many men dare to travel in the bayou since the disappearances and bodies turning up on the banks. Still, I listen to the man standing over me until he says he must leave. As he walks away, I notice his walk is not sturdy. Before I can stand and chase after him, he's gone.

And so I'm here, staring at Madame LaFleur...

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Time for a bit of Scheduled Maintainence

Well, it's that time of the year again. The end. At least, academically speaking. So, of course, as I look around, a lot of my friends seem to be doing a great deal of reflecting. It almost seems inevitable at this point. How was the school year? What am I looking forward to this summer? What am I up to? Blah blah blah...

I have no desire to reflect on this past semester. I did what I could. Period. Whether you take that as what I wanted to or what I'm actually capable of, that's up to you. I'm satisfied with my grades. End of story.

So I'm going to take this time to reflect. Inwardly. (I'm really just going to free write at this point. I just need to flush out some thoughts)

I have so many thoughts on my mind, really. Some fully formed. Some just whispers. Some fading memories. Everything all jumbled up inside my mind. I find it hard to give these thoughts voice. Hearing them out loud makes it harder for them to go away. It's easy to push thoughts back to the deep, dark recesses of your mind but words... Words are a different beast altogether.

I once wrote that writing makes it real. Well, spoken words tend to have that affect as well. Not only do you hear what you're feeling, fearing, worried about.. but someone else will as well. Whoever you're telling now bears all that plagues you. Now they share the anxiety. And, to me, that's just not fair. I don't want anyone else to carry my cross. I'd rather be crushed under the weight myself. That way, I'm the only one who suffers.

There is one person who I trust completely. One person who I know I can tell my secrets to without fear of sharing burdens. That is because this girl is the strongest person I know. Nothing can break her. She's a phoenix. I've seen life throw so many things at this girl and still, she takes it all in stride, with a smile. I admire her. A little jealous, too. She never complains or whines (at least not to me). She's driven. She's my best friend.

There are so many things I wish to tell her...

Your Eyes are my Looking Glass

Your eyes are my looking glass:
my future tinted in blue.
To see myself
my life
my future,
I simply look to you.

When I don't see the forest
when I can't pass the tree
when I won't break through my thoughts
I just need you to look at me.

Show me my reflection,
magnify my imperfections.
Show me an image made to last
because your eyes are my looking glass.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.