Infinite

I am sitting in my room, surrounded by the blissful cool change, next to the window thrown wide open and listening to some party my neighbours are throwing. The thing about my street is that because it's in a valley kinda thing, you can literally hear normal conversations that are being held like four doors up. So you can imagine the ruckus parties cause around these parts. 

I just finished reading 'The Perks of Being a Wallflower' which I started yesterday because it seems to be all the rage, and I've been looking for another 'Looking for Alaska' which made me feel everything. I just LOVE that book, like urgh, and I didn't love Perks as much. I feel like I didn't actively 'like' it, or maybe I did, I'm not sure, but I do know that I finished it overnight which means that it was interesting enough to keep me reading for straight hours. 

It was actually kind of nice. Because even though it was really angsty and everyone was so mad and everyone was caught between being an adult and being a kid and all up in unrealistic and illegal situations and abortions and suicide and LSD and suspicious dead relatives, they were all hopeful about something. About the future, or their families, or the friends - that everything and everyone would turn out OK, the end. And also the same things kept happening, like the same characters would go to the same places and do the same things, but it wasn't boring because there was always some emotional or cerebral or physical trauma happening and someone was always high or angry or both.