Someone gave me a book tonight. It is a collection of short stories on people I can associate with personally. After browsing through it, I was moved. Not inspired but moved. Moved with an understanding borne out of actually travelling the path myself. An understanding that is only possible if you been through same experiences. Our stories are all different. We are all driven by different motivations but faced the same struggles and internal conflicts. Yet, I am not inspired to stay on the path. I am happy to have walk the path. Walking the path helped built my character and make me a better person. I had tripped and fallen along the way, had some hard knocks and learn some of my most important life’s lesson along the path. I am thankful to have walk the path. It has helped develop me into the person I am. Now, I am ready to turn direction and pursue a new path. Cos’ I am very certain this is no longer the happiness that I want to pursue.

After reading, I am striked by the fact that I have not been allowing myself to think or feel too deeply recently. I am cutting myself off in the middle of my thoughts. Keeping busy, doing stuffs, meeting people, appearing cheerful. Doesn’t really work anyway. Feelings doesn’t cease to exist just because you refuse to acknowledge them. They just accumulate. Writing them down should be the perfect outlet but for somehow I find that I am unable to write anything sensible cos they are like this maze of thoughts all jumbled out, confusing and messy. I am unable to sort them out (or is it unwilling to sort them out). It is like so much easier to just post something simple or silly that does not require thinking. Someday I wonder if I just post cluttered and unimportant stuff online just to remind myself that I am living.