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Letter to the Masses

I haven't written prose in awhile.  Maybe I am a little more concerned about laying out my insights on the page. I love fashion and I love beauty.  I love it in all forms but I also love it naturally and sometimes as a costume.  While I showcase things here that I find beautiful and inspiring I do so not only for an audience but for myself.  A page to turn to when things get hard, I can always look at stunning things that make a euphoric effect.

I have always enjoyed the glamour of entertaining and I love being on stage in lights and I love wearing fancy dresses.  While that's girly and awesome I also have a fascination with perfection and nirvana, both fleeting concepts.  To obtain the obtainable has become a quest and sometimes it can only exist in a picture.  Sometimes taken from a cell phone or from a 5D camera.  Whatever it is everyone has suddenly become a photographer with instant edit and their fingertips (literally).  While the idea of a perfect photograph is so sexy to me, the idea of how flawed life is shatters me constantly.  I don't want to be inauthentic, I don't want to be a dress up doll, I don't want to be fake, but I enjoy what is beautiful and perfect so much, why can't I be that too?  Life is so messy, I am messy and what I really want people to see me as the perfect photograph version of myself.

But I guess I'm telling all of you the truth here.  I am messy.  I am a little (or alot) worried about something or another all the time.  My parents did the best they could.  I am scared to share myself when it's not in a song, the songs are the easy part.  I am scared that no one will like what they see, that when they get to know me, it just not what they thought..  I am afraid that the flawed Alex, the real her, isn't worthy of love at all.  Holding on to an ideal has never gotten me anywhere but somehow it feels safe; but it also leaves me constantly unhappy that there's something still to find I don't, and may never have.  Am I not content with my given circumstances? No, I am not content with the bubble I've kept myself in, but the fear of the unknown keeps me here and the fear of fear definitely seals the deal.  I judge myself before I give others a chance.  How can this be? What have I become?  Maybe its a survival technique...I'm really not sure.  But I really do wish to stop this tortuous game. When will I be ok with myself, that this is me, so i can calm down and just let it be? When will I know that I'm enough?  I always thought that I was suppose to figure everything out and once that happened then I'd be ready.  But the saying really is true, its about the journey.  I really want to be able to enjoy it, but right now the pressure of it all is really weighing me down.

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