The Open Matt Project

Matt Unbound

It's been a very long time since I've written anything. I've been chided for it by no small number of friends and family, and although I appreciate the little input it is, I write now from a location untouched by these appeals.

My brain problems seem to have waned to a point where I am merely diminished, as opposed to crippled. I have some vague awareness that I was sharper, more flexible of thought, and considerably less slow than I had been a few months ago, but typical of human behavior I have adapted and so am no longer burdened by the sense of loss.

In an inexplicable way, I have changed fundamentally. I could not begin to explain in what way or to what extent, despite my having tried on numerous occasions with intimates. The best I have come up with is, in a word, tamed. I have somehow been tamed. Whether or not it was the experience of being slowly killed or the excision of unknown mental terrain, or something else altogether, I do not know. What I feel now is a sense of natural, perhaps even placid, passion for life.

Familiar terrors visit me, and I find them toothless and without vigor. The consideration of my direction, finding insufficient purchase on the now sheer surface of my introspection, has shifted to the mundane. Not only do I no longer struggle with my web of melancholy and despair, but I find it difficult to remember its terrible clutches.

In this bizarre twist of fate, I have lost myself only to find that only I remain, but as an exclamation now, no longer a question.

I love, and I love. I rage, and I rage. I fear, and am afraid. My friends are much clearer to me now, as I am no longer viewing them through a furious haze of predictive visions. Those who have forsaken me are simply forsaken and no more. If I listened more in my life, I cannot recall it, and the sound of it carries the words I have forever struggled to find. Above all, I taste this preciousness.

So the question of this portal, this old bespittled maw of katharsis, and what is to become of it hangs here on it's very pages.

Possibly forever.

Posted by Matt at September 20, 2005 02:08 AM