pieces of perfection

the other night i was laying in my bed, twirling a piece of string, and i realized that this string was perfect. not because it was blue, or had a certain length to it, but because it was the perfect little string.

and the more i think about it, the more it makes sense: perfection is not something without faults or flaws, but the realization of a state of being.

i have a crazy, mangled, chaotic family. three younger sister, an other brother, and parents who could just as easily kiss as kill each other. plus 3 cats and 2 dogs in a surprisingly spacey two-flat.

i have a bright yellow, 17″ dell computer. it’s so big that with the enormous battery pack i can’t fit it in a laptop sleeve. and it has a huge dent in the front side–oh, and i have an affinity for letting models play with it when i go on shoots with my friend, which often results in it being dropped.

i have one guy. one guy, who slips his arm around my waist and smells slightly of old spice (my father’s cologne). he holds my hand, reads my mind, and is the first in a short list of things that demand nothing from me. he’s just there and he wants me–and i want him.

i don’t know what to do with this string. i think it came from a sweater. maybe it’ll go on an adventure. maybe it’ll just, stop and stay a while.

and that’s perfect timing. i have a perfect family, a perfect computer, and a perfect boyfriend. all because i said so. right now i can’t even see into next week, let alone this next semester or the rest of my life–but i’m pretty sure it’ll be built of thousands of pieces of perfection that add up to something greater.

oh my.

-Katche.