"Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate"

"Let me tell you why you're here. You're here because you know something. What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire life; that there's something wrong with the world. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad. It is this feeling that has brought you to me." - Morpheus, The Matrix

I'm not a writer. Or at least, I'm not a good writer. At one point in my past, I wanted to be. I think I may have even had a talent for it. People seemed to like what I wrote. In any case, I no longer have that talent, and I no longer have that goal.

I don't particularly want to write this blog. I like blogs, and I've tried a few times to keep one of my own, but it has inevitably turned out that I quit writing for them, delete all the entries, and let them sit empty, taking up "space" on the internet.

I think perhaps I lack the right temperament. I don't like sitting by my computer for hours on end trying to think of how to express the things within me. What I know, I can't explain. So it takes me far too long to write my entries: I think it's coming up on fifteen minutes for these last three paragrpahs.

I don't want to write this blog, but I'm going to try. I'm doing it because I find a lack in the internet. What is lacking is the exploration of the feeling Morpheus describes above. Or at least when it comes to my specific splinter. I've tried to find things online, writings by people who share my splinter, and every time I come up short. Almost, but not quite. It is because of this that I want to try to keep this blog now. Someone, somewhere, is looking for recognition of thier splinter, and they're not finding any. Maybe they will find some value in the story of how I'm learning to remove mine.