Down the Hidden Road

I stare long at the monitor hoping that words would come freely to my mind so I can translate them to the keyboards and onto the screen. But as it always will, my mind freezes and the words stop coming. How is it that when I'm alone I can think of anything and it comes so naturally to me? I construct words after words that will and can reflect my true feelings. Words that can be a bridge to who and what I am. Thoughts that will let you catch a glimpse of my substance. Yet when I want to put it into writing, all the deals are off. No words come, knowing that someone somehow might stumble upon this page and for unknown reason, stop for more than a brief second to actually read them. I always can make it a private space. But it'll have 'COWARD' written all over it. Plus that's not the reason why I decided to write off my secrets. I want to load them off my chest.

To think of any secrets to write is like trying to find a golden scale of a dragon. I have to go down a few dangerous paths before I can even reach the lair. Acidic snow, erupting volcanoes, deserted mountains...bracing through anything and everything, laced with tricky riddles. Even when I found the hidden nest, I'll still have to fight the pissed off dragon and fight it well so I won't die in an untimely demise. In this case, so the blog won't die prematurely. The first time I tried, after thinking hard, I came up discussing about my bodily fluid. V for vomit is probably the most suitable title for that post.

Confession#2: I talk to my car more than I talk to human being.

If my car can listen, it'd know more about me than any other people around me. I know it's weird. And I have yet to read and heard about anyone like me. But there's something comforting about being in my car, doors locked that I can confess about a lot of things I have difficulties to share with others. I vent my frustration after a hard day work inside it, laughed when I did something silly, cried when I did something silly, confess that I'm an emotionally retard who have issues about trusting other people with my inner thoughts to it.

I used to have friends I share things with. In time, we grew apart. They get settled down, have children, enjoying married life. While I still struggle to figure out what I really want in life. Finding new trusted friends is something I'm not good at because I have trust defect. So I'm left without any close friends I can open up my feelings to. Except my car I guess.

I know this is just the third post I've written here. I believe that practice makes perfect. In time, I hope I'll learn to be more open. There will come the time when the thought of sharing my secrets in writing won't cause me to visibly shudder and cringe in embarrassment. For now, I have to go fight that dragon because down the hidden road nestled all my secrets.