"I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion"

I liked the book "On the Road" very much, back in my A-level days when I read it. I remember starting off quite disconcerted by Keruoac's writing style, which I found slightly yawn-inducing.

But as I read on, I ended up being very excited about it. Inside, I was jumping up and down like some crazed rabbit high on drugs. Some of it spoke to me, of me. The solution it seemed, was to get on the road, get moving. And I wanted to jump up and take off into the wild unknown at once.

I want so much to write. But I find that I write, then choose not to post it. Or take it down after a while. I feel like a sputtering engine: start - stop - start - stop.

I want to say everything and nothing. There are times when I want to say: "I wish someone would pull the plug." But I don't want to whine. Don't want to sit here and wallow in self-pity. Don't want to admit how lost I feel. After all, no one likes a depressive girl.

Also, I believe in the power of the mind. I believe that we can affect, if not create, reality. Yes, cornily enough, I believe in the power of positive and negative thinking. I believe that if you believe in something long enough, determinedly enough, it will happen. Many things boil down to a mental condition.

And that is why, I don't wish to dwell on my unhappiness. I don't wish to dwell on my confusion and internal noise. I'm afraid that if I obsess about it too much, I shall spiral downwards into a dark place.

I want to be happy crappy clappy. I want to radiate joy, energy and exuberance. I want to be in love with the world. So I'm thinking that if I don't talk about it, the problem will go away. After this post, if I can't write about something positive, I will not write at all.

Honestly, in real life, I'm not always like that. Well, I am rather numb at the moment, even in real life. But I have not always been like that. I am not always like that. I actually know how to laugh and smile.

But for now, this quote from "On the Road" best describes my condition:
- "... I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion."