I used to think I was generally pretty good at writing. That was probably ~3 years ago. Today, I realized I'm no good with words. I will forever marvel at the talented authors' ability to bring their readers into an entirely new world, and the way they're able to make their readers feel something about a story.
I love reading, there's no questioning that. But writing? That's a whole different story altogether. Every time I try to write, it takes forever to write a single paragraph (including this one) in hopes of trying to make everything come out right, because it barely does. I look for the right vocabulary, stitch the sentences together, and by the time I finish and re-read what I wrote, I start all over again because I don't like what I wrote. Every time I try not to think while writing, the words end up not flowing the right way, and is basically crap. It takes so much effort for a simple task: to explain. I sucked at explaining since the day I was born, period. The product on the paper hardly comes close to what's inside: it turns out completely different and unrelated. There are a million words in the human language, yet it's still not enough. Some people can write so little but say so much, but me? I can write for hours but in the end, I would just be wasting time trying. Sometimes, there are no words to describe feelings.
Maybe there's the reason why I like photographs so much. There's honesty in them. There's less room for lies and manipulation. It isn't very often when the message the photographer is trying to give you is misinterpreted. You look at a photograph, and then suddenly, you feel something. You can't explain it and you don't have to. You can say "this photo makes me happy" and it's enough. It's never complicated. A single photo has a thousand words, and you find them, so easily. Maybe that makes me a lazy butt, but I like it. Although of course, there are some things about words that pictures cannot replace, vice versa, etc.
Why am I saying this, you ask? Because I got frustrated trying to write in my journal/diary/whatnot. xD
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I dunno whether or not I should like the holidays. I mean, it's Chinese New Year and I'm not Chinese, so there's really nothing important to do. Either I work my butt off... or procrastinate. There's barely 1 week of holidays left before school starts again (oh and omgwtfbbq, it's the last holidays before study leave!!!!!), and I haven't done anything significant. Yeah, there's a lot of time to rest, but is that really a good thing? ;P
So this is why, today, I'm up early. Well, not really. My body woke up at ~4:30am (it's mental. I went to sleep at half past one) and it's 7 now. (shizz, I took an hour to create this entry.) There's absolutely no time to waste, and it's time to be crazy productive.
Also, I've been missing certain people, not all necessarily the ones I should be missing, because I'm stuck at home. The human emotions are really quite weird/annoying sometimes.
C'est la vie.
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