More of a Thinker.

"You won't believe me if I promise again
I'm telling you that I can change
I'd scream it at the top of my lungs
But it's out of my range"

I don't know who I'm telling I can change. I don't know that one, or perhaps just me, can scream at their top of their lungs and really have much of an impact besides blasting each persons ear drums and in turn ruining your throat for a while. Or perhaps I am wrong. If I screamed loud and long enough, really, really truly screamed..would it affect? Hm..

I recently noticed that I have unknowingly surrounded myself by a nearly impenetrable dome of silence. Ages has it been since I've had the time or energy to truly let someone in. Not because I'm emo, depressed, attention-starved, lonely, angry, or any other english term. Its just happened. There are some reasons, obviously, such as slow but steady departure of friends, quick and sharp departure of family, and of course, the everlasting (well, hopefully not) and repeated action of the ever famous heart (ache) break and heal. Heal, Break, Heal, Break. Repeat.

I'm not in this sequence right now. But I will be come the end of August and the begining of the 1st Deployment. We shall see.

Writing is something that I have sorely missed. I have my journal, yes, but my mind operates at a much faster pace than my fingers have the ability to scribble. I really can't find any upside to this predicament besides the inevitable invention of a microsoft powered journal which will, after I have typed my fingers to fatigue, transform my typed words into my own, lovely, sometimes messy, hand writing. That way the feeling of being nothing more than a product of my sad generation will fail to appear. Sort of.

One often wonders if one is able to bend out of their familiarity bubble and entice in a different sort of character than their own would generally be attracted to. It very well may be that a certain lack of attraction stems from my love of the arts (or at least a healthy does of singing and dancing *jazz hands* ) and a not so..uh, stem, of the sports. Run, jump, swim, hit things with bats, hit things with feet. I like it, but I'm accustomed to the Artsy breed. It can be confusing and at times a complete sucker to think about but I'd hardly call my situation " a problem" more of a "thinker"

Mhm.