It's always the same experience I had when I want to share something personal online.
It occurs in 3 phases; the excitement, the self-inflicted paranoia and the messy-and-quick exit.

When I started typing today my eyes were gleaming with hope after having gone through posts from other Steemians on the Hot section. 
Sipping my morning coffee, legs stretched out on the cozy bench by the beach;  I imagined a chain of (Steem)gold at the end of the rainbow. I was confident that I too, will get to taste some of that, because I had myself thinking that I have something real to offer.

My life experiences, I thought, can be an inspiration. 
Funny, wild, creepy anecdotes from my solo travel too, as clichéd as they seem. 
My personal struggle living in a country that I have slowly but strongly felt disintegrated with for the past 10 years as a Muslim-turn-agnostic. Now THAT has always turned into a hot topic at dinner tables, if we ever get there. 

After all, it's the lovely people I met along the way that had told me I should write a book.

A book. 

Not a blog. 
Not a bloody essay.

A book.

Nahhhh....you're being too kind, I said. I can't write a book; I can barely keep a proper journal. 
Whenever I do feel something strong that I should write them down, I'd find the nearest piece of crumpled receipts, used maps and tissue papers in my backpack only to later stash it along with some unconverted foreign coins at the back of my closet drawers when I get home. 

Another sip of coffee. 

It's funny to really see that the harshest person that you encounter is yourself. 
That brief inner dispute between your heart and your head is worse that the yearly appraisal with the un-impressionable manager. 

But even when I do get past that, there is that obstacle still. 

You see, when I'm telling these stories - I'm physically there. My facial expressions, body language and gestures would all sync with the story; I was engaged with my audience. 

I can tell when to stop and listen to their responses. I can hear their laughter when I delivered the punch line. They threw their heads back and slap their thighs.
They ask me questions that lead to another story. I'd know if they want more. I'd know if I'm making a difference to their day, even if it's a mere 10 minutes.

So HOW do I write to get that same responses here? 
Thousands of people are doing the same thing on Steemit. 
Why would anyone read this piece of junk anyway?

That judgmental noise in my head is getting louder. 

It's only a matter of time before I gave up. 

You know what?
Fuck it.

I want a piece of me out there. 
![IMG_20170629_112315.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmNUE2aoqpKcasT74sZ5ohJsPvMpchFVtcBPfesPp9rC39/IMG_20170629_112315.jpg)

Think I'll just click that Post button and go for a snorkel.