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About Literature / Professional Kendra Mei ChailynFemale/Canada Recent Activity
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Wandering the streets alone, I the silence was welcomed. There were no shouting or things banging around. All that flowed along the silent road was a lone car, one headlight dead the other flickering eerily along.  I watched it, arms wrapped around myself, until the taillights died in the distance, becoming nothing but a memory. I blinked, forcing my feet to carry me away from the house of woe and toward my house of loneliness.

 Strange—even in a house filled with people who should love me, I still felt as if I was stranded on an island by myself. Suddenly, panic that filled me. I was getting older and I was still alone, wandering aimlessly down a dark road, heels clicking incessantly on the asphalt.  Fear wasn’t of the unknown ahead of me as I walked—fear was what was ahead of me in my life. I ached for something else, something more. But I had no clue what it was. In that moment, I wanted to get as far away from my family as possible, tear my identity from my brother and my family.

 My heart hammered inside my chest.  Still, I walked.

 Vehicles hummed by me as the road went from a small two lane one with a sidewalk to three lanes both way and a sidewalk. I made it home, rushed up the stairs since the elevator was taking far too long and locked myself into my apartment. With my back pressed into the door, I tried getting my breathing to calm down. My shoulders rose and fell heavily while my lungs burned.  This small space should be my happy place, my solace.  But all it made me feel was apprehension, like the world was ending and I would be alone in a corner—with a book.

 I fled from the door and dove for the phone across my bed. But who was I going to call? Who could calm me down and give me peace? I thought of Michael, with his beautiful eyes, English Accent and hard body.  No, that wouldn’t give me solace. It would make my body burn, my heart flutter and I flopped to my back with the phone off the hook. I could hear the low buzz of the signal. I listened to it, pulsing, annoying until the sound became a part of who I was, where I was. Soon that sound was no more and all I had was silence…

 …just silence…

  • Drinking: Water

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Kendra Mei Chailyn
Artist | Professional | Literature
Canada
I am a LGBT supporter and bestselling author of sensual, interracial romance. I spend most of my time, when not working the day job, writing, researching, blogging, taking pictures for said blog, trying to use twitter and all that stuff. I love good art, no matter the format.
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