Amputations of Thought

I am stuck at the limitations of limited thought.

Every potential idea is blocked by an over-analytical mind that ceases to be anything but critical; in short it is writer's block.

I met a Kelvin tonight. No, there was no interaction between temperature and I. It was simply a boy named Kelvin. An interesting figure. He wears green, sporting that sort of flippy hair that would make slutty girls at my old high school swoon. Except, no I don't think he has a studly bone in his body. He is simply like me. I am intriguing... that is our power. At least I would think. He's an interesting sort. Why? I don't know what his appeal is, but I would like to be his friend. And no, I don't mean the perpetual hipster I would end up talking to online on occasion about "cool happenings" and odd blogs and nerdy talk being the subject matter. No, I'd love to be his friend.