yea, that's sort of how my expression is now.

i had something to write, something that was floating around bothering me a few hours ago but of course, it has beautifully floated away and i don't remember exactly what it was. seemed important though or not.

i do quite like to write which i do when the mood strikes; often when i'm in the middle of a crying spree, most likely going through PMS. i write in a book, a journal of sorts and in it is nearly every sad, tearful,  confused and lost moment of my life.

i write to remember and to forget. one of the most shocking realization when i read through my journal is how little they reflect me. what i write does so little in defining me and yet, those words dictated very (sort of) important events in my life or i wouldn't be crying buckets over them, right? the other shocking realization is how my writing resembles that of a person with dissociative identity disorder.

oh, i don't know why i'm here. itchy fingers are the mostly likely reason. what i should really do now is to get started on my assignment or sleep. i most probably should not rummage the kitchen in search of food (too bad, that's what i'm doing after hitting 'publish').

this is a rant kind of or not. goodnight.