My mouth betrays my mind. My mouth hinders my thoughts from being coherently expressed. I know that my words have made me appear less intelligent before they have ever left my mouth. Sitting in quiet agony, I withhold contributions to conversations knowing that any attempt will be delivered in stammered prose.
Hidden behind my mouth, there is another Matt. A Matt that very few know, or will ever see. Instead, most will see me as one, or all, of these possible personalities: the quiet and awkwardly shy man; the asshole who thinks he is too good to talk to you; the simpleton who is trapped in a conversation above his education level. If I am to be truthful with myself, there is a part of me in all three options. However, my point is that there is more to the Matt you know than the socially retarded exterior that is presented.
The one positive that I have gained from my lack of eloquence is perspective. There are many who believe speech is the greatest indicator of intelligence. To those holding this view, the person who is a flawless orator is lauded as a genius, while the person who struggles in their speech is an uneducated rube. In my relatively short 29 years of life, I have observed people who validate this claim. That said, I have met an equal number of people who turn that idea on its head.
Writing is the only time when I do not feel self conscious in communicating with others. Not to say that I think myself to be a great writer, but at least I am able to get the words that are so often trapped, out of my head. My ginormous, bearded head.
So the next time you find yourself engaged in conversation with me and that long lull makes its first appearance, remember this, my friend.