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I have been so infrequent and inconsistent with my writing that I know whatever audience I had is gone.  This is now only for me and thats what I want it to be.  I'll be pleased if my readership has vanished because my writing sucks these days.  Aimless, uninspired, and without purpose.  My words have become trite, vocabulary diminished, and without sense of style.
    Where has all that I have had to say gone?  Going in and out of environments of solitude, my voice was left unused to collect inside my head.  My outlet became pen and paper, keyboard and screen.  I could write for hours, cherishing my choice of words.  I'd save every scrap and fragment, rereading them all hundreds of times to unconsciously piece them together.  My favorites were the ones written in the middle of the night, rolling over in bed to scrawl a fragment of my dream on a note card, cryptic, then returning to the realm sleep.  I'd wake up without recollection of my thoughtdreams, astonished at what had occurred in my sleep.  "...rewards handed out in units of bravery..."  "...we were living on the 71st floor of an apartment building towering out of the water..."  "...all junkied up and Courtney made eggs..."  Even saved emails bring me a sense of disbelief when rereading what I had written.  Now my electronic communication has become vacuous, focused on the content of the message, delivered has undramatically as possible. 
    Having burrowed out of seclusion, words bubble out of my mouth daily, incessantly.  But the words are different, for a different audience and purpose, and when those days and times return when I attempt to pry open my mind and let the jumbled mess unfurl itself on the page, I find nothing.  Has the fountain of creativity dried up inside me?  Have I become to far removed from the experiences in my life that have most inspired me, filling me with awe and wonder, confusion and question?  I hope not.  For once I'll refuse the plate of pessimism served with a side order of fatalistic tendencies.  At least for today, I'll still dream of being a writer.