alex in wonderland

Everyday, I am a new person. Everyday, I am another caricature of a voice inside my brain. I perceive everything around me as if I were reading it in a book, everything is a string of sentences. Lately, I want to know what medium everyone around me uses to describe the world and objects around them. Or, I just want to have a new conversation with new people. Reading through three year old blog posts (oh, goodness, how has is it been three years?) makes me feel a little happier than I am. Everything always seems so desperate and miserable until you realize how far you've actually come. I remember reading diary entries from my 14-year-old self when I was 18, and realizing how far I'd actually come from the cripplingly insecure girl. I still feel as if I'm so lost and so far away from any kind of stability, but the truth of the matter is that I have a lot of exciting things ahead of me, maybe in my grasp. Everything is a jumbled mess of great and awful at the moment, and thus I have remained in a stagnant land of mushed feelings, but it'll be okay. As of now, I want to be sitting in a dark cafe somewhere listening to jazz. I want to sip on scotch and hear the emotions of a piano and a sax and what have you.