The Open Matt Project

I hate not missing my

I hate not missing my mother. I make up stories. I pick my nose. I'm ashamed of my teeth, and every time I look at them I still hear the kids from school calling me beaver. Every time. I don't wash my feet. I love the feel of a soft ass cheek against my face. I masturbate at least twice a day, sometimes up to six times, and I love it. I wish my sister were free from her useless, scumbag husband. I rescued a princess in a series of dreams from when I was 7 years old till I was about 10, and when I finally rescued her and told her how much I loved her - she slowly dissipated in my arms, whispering "goodbye... goodbye..." My mother died when I was 7 and although I remember that dream with perfect clarity, I can't remember the night she died at all.

I like salty, spicy, hot, and filling food, like peppered beef jerky and thick chili. I wear my socks repeatedly without washing them. Sometimes I do that with my underwear as well. I have fallen in love under the moonlight, baking in the sun, on trains, in busses, over a desk, standing on a steaming manhole cover in midtown Manhattan, in the attic as well as the basement, on the beach, and in a tree and I wouldn't trade any of it for anything. I believe in the death penalty. When I feel comfortable enough and I'm not obsessing about myself too much, I love eating pussy. I love it more when I don't have to break my neck doing it. I love to run and I love to dance and I love to climb rocks and I love to wrestle. I hate hearing my heart beat. Almost every night of my childhood I spent on the lower bunk of the bunkbed, under my sister's foam mattress, having to constantly brush off the foam dust that fell on me all night. I have hated okra my whole life and even though every four years or so I try it again, it is still a despicable vegetable.

I think I know better than most people, regardless of how frequently that proves to be untrue. Despite his best efforts, my father could never hide the Christmas presents from me and he never could figure out how to keep me off the computer after he went to bed. One of the first things I used my original modem connection for was to find pornography. I enjoy bizarre pornography, yet even when offered free rein in bed, I am completely traditional. I like to hold doors for women, and give up my seat to old people. I don't think I have had more than 10 pairs of shoes in my entire life. My asscrack is hairy.

I have inadvertently dealt out pain to people I have loved and people I have hated - and they have inadvertently returned the favor. Consistently. I don't believe in karma. I do believe in true love. I destroyed my knee when I was 14 chasing after a woman who had babysat for me and it has never healed. I was in love. I went to her wedding years later and got drunk and called the groom an asshole. Later that day, her younger sister hit on me and I decided to get the fuck out of there and I don't think I've ever been back. I love being touched idly when I'm resting. I hate people who fidget, especially when it makes sounds. People who spin their pens are either asian, or I hate them, or both.

I love seeing breasts, but I don't particularly care what their size is when I get to touch them. I am so lonely that I see it in everyone around me, and their efforts to comfort me strike me as nearly macabre, or perhaps slightly vampiric. I have never been into girl-on-girl action. The one thing that attracts me most in a girl is her eyes. Blind people scare me. I have never been afraid of the dark, due to a realization that if there were to be anything supernatural lurking there, it would most likely be my mother and the worst I could expect would be the buckle end of my father's belt.

I didn't really believe anything my father told me as a child, but I really believe that nearly everything my father told me was true. Keeping your word is important. Stealing is wrong. Don't go to bed angry. Apologize. Brush your teeth. I cried when I heard Jim Henson was dead. I have mood swings that range from day to day. I read somewhere about something-something "bipolar" something, but I decided that if I was going to place the blame (and the solution) for my problem on something, it would be God and not some trendy psychology. I'm a sucker for redheads. I don't like sweets. I don't like sweet things in general. I miss my mother.

Posted by Matt at April 13, 2003 12:14 AM