write the great american novel

I came up with a fairly original idea for my book. I stayed up until four am doing a rough outline for it. Everything seems to be coming together rather nicely. Now I just really need to research all the topics influencing my story very well, because the closer it is to thetruth the better the novel will be. I would love to share my idea but I don’t want anyone to steal my idea. I will tell you it’s a murder-mystery. I’m excited, hopefully it finds a publisher when I am finished.

It surprises me that the more friends I make the lonelier I feel. I just get detached from friends when I make friends. I believe in having four or five really close friends. The kind of friends you can trust your life to, the kind of friends that would support every decision you make even if it was the stupidest thing they ever heard. Of course I mean after they give you their opinion of the matter. Friends like these are hard to come by, even harder in the Army. You have to live life so much faster in the Army than anywhere else because everyone comes and goes so frequently. I wish I would’ve opened up to people quicker. I am slowly learning that most people mean well. Still it is hard to trust someone you just met. It’s very awkward, because sometimes people can tell there deepest secrets to complete strangers and it helps them live another day. There are some people I wish I would have met and got to know a lot sooner than I did. I look around and I see a bunch of friends that act like they’ve known each other since kindergarten, when in actuality they have only know each other for two or three months. It just blows my mind at how the human psyche can adjust to surroundings such as these. Mine refuses. I had three friends I can bear some of my feelings to. I have been hurt by two of them and so I don’t really talk to them about how I feel anymore. The other one just is kind of detached from reality, or so it seems, so I can’t really talk to him too much about my problems because his advice doesn’t help me at all. I know that I am not alone really though. I have friends that care about me very much. The problem is that most of them are not here with me. Another thing is that I feel like most of my friends wouldn’t really mourn me if I decided to off myself. I feel like they would either have a guilty conscience, because they wish they could’ve stopped me or they would hate me because suicide really isn’t the answer to any problem. I hate living this lifestyle and look forward to leaving it, by leaving it I mean the Army not life. Hopefully things will change when I finish my tour, I think they will. There is change on the wind and soon my kite will soar high.

I promise my next essay won’t be about me and won’t be as depressing. I think the next one will be a work of fiction. This one was just something before I went to bed, more of a blog than anything, but I wanted to give it a shot.

I am going to write some essays, and post them in my quest to become an author. Let me know what you think.