as much as walter benjamin is a compelling and enlightening read, i find myself here again, writing. because, for the same reason why i'm realising at a lot of things, i realise that i enjoy writing, because i'm not too good at talking. writing allows me to be anyone i want to be. i wished people knew me first by what i write, because in many ways it reflects more on what i think than what i say.
and i don't even know why i find this important. because what's the point anyways? people make their own impressions of you, most times regardless of what you do. people are just weird like that.
right now i'm waiting for something important, and the fact that it hasn't arrived is putting me rather on edge. ever had this feeling of "why the hell did i just do that? it was obviously a stupid thing to do and could come to no good!". well, that's what i feel right now. hey, but you know, i knew i had to do it. and as much as i want to, because that would make much more logical sense, i don't regret it at all. regardless of what happens.
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