Does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of, i never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent, I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance wedged itself between me and my happiness, it wasn't the world, it wasn't the bombs and burning buildings, it was, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don't know, but its so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never one into it.