why bother?

i try to always ask first why am i doing something, like blogging, a past time in which if i had time, would not be even considered as something worthy. moreover, i would never consider myself to be much of an interesting writer because i am supposedly a photographer these days. but inspiration comes at the strangest time. i’ve decided to pick up the keyboard again to express my anguish. the anguish that is so fimilar but always gut wrenching like it’s the first time.

this is the inspiriation as well as the anguish :

why write sob letters about her when i can publish to the world.