Is it a problem I cannot define myself? You see, every time I try to put forth an identity a polar opposite lurks in its shadow. Like a gigantic ball formed out of rubber bands, revealing a new, never before seen colour beneath each synthetic strand. Though there is nothing synthetic about me, I despise the idea of defining for definition sake. Perhaps I overanalyze here - although to use the term overanalyze may be too derogatory of a statement - then again, the very pondering of the matter validates my initial shortcoming. For the sake of those who care to know, I will attempt a self-description. Why am I speaking in this tone? I dont know. Other than to say it is my writing voice and well, it amuses me greatly. I promise I am quite sane, except for the occasional talking to myself, okay, I do it a lot, and like it very much. I am an explorer, not necessarily of far off destinations, but rather an explorer of minds and all that this encompasses - intention, desire, understanding, compassion and remorse. I believe in the power of words, that a smile can change the course of ones day and that to whom much is given much is expected. I delight in God, things unknown, and the truth. I enjoy catching myself when I do wrong, learning from the mistake so it gains purpose and goes unrepeated. I take pleasure in sharing these lessons with others, all the while understanding that all are entitled to their own pitfalls. Lastly, I hold fast to a key that dangles around my neck. It has been most paramount in opening the door to my happiness. It directs me to be honest with myself, and to as much as possible, adhere to my innermost revelations. Oh yes, and my music - I figure this much should speak for itself.
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