Chipping at the Concrete Wall

So everyday, I click on the "create post" link in order to write some witty little reflection in this blog. Something sharp, funny, and hopefully insightful to you, my six and a quarter readers. But everyday, I stare at the blank space awaiting the fruits of my mind's cog-turns for about a minute, and very anti-climatically and unceremoniously balk. Just as I clicked it open, I quickly click on the big red X on the top right hand corner, and go back to staring aimlessly at a random chemical poo company's capacity additions or cash flow statement.

It is not a lack of stories to tell. I have enough upskirt moments a day due to my wind funnel of an office building entrance to easily fill up several posts a day. It isn't a lack of desire to talk to you; I love your comments, I love your readership, and I love reading your blogs.

I get this way sometimes. It's not a simple case of writer's block. It's a deep rooted rejection of sharing the real me with the outside world. I don't exactly know why this is the case. I haven't been emotionally scarred by a person I love. I haven't been betrayed. I've never been able to let anyone in enough to give them the chance to hurt me to begin with. Even this silly little admition is more than I've ever said about myself before. I've always been happier listening to others and helping them through their issues. No, happier isn't the right word. I've always been more comfortable in that position. Becuase it meant that the focus wasn't on me, I didn't have to expose my heart or my thoughts and fears.

I've always bottled everything inside. This is one of the reasons why I decided to start a blog. I figured, if I couldn't communicate what's going on inside to people I would probably never meet and therefore would never have to face, then how could I ever hope to survive let alone flourish in this world? And yet, after 7 months of blogging, what have I really said on here aside from superficial stories, general winging, and random links? How much of me have I revealed? I could just about anyone writing and no one would tell the difference. I've made no progress. In 7 months, this just may be the first time I've revealed anything about myself. How disappointing is that?

Yes, great. I succeeded in maintaining this for longer than a week. Whoop dee doo. Yes, I've posted a couple of genuinely funny snippets. Who couldn't in 112 posts? Have I made a proper connection? No. Have I learnt to be even the least bit more emotionally communicative? No. I still can't talk to the people close to me about me. I can't even write about it on a blog almost no one reads. Even after this post, I won't improve. I know myself well enough to know that this is a one off. That's if I even bother to post it.

I'll concede this post as a tiny step forward. I'll grow a pair and actually post it. Let's see if I can keep this sort of honesty going.

Who knows, I might even be able to be funny next time.