Is this the end?

I seem to have lost the will to update daily as I once did. I stare at this white box and have nothing to say. So weird. I don’t know if it’s the lack of community response, or if it’s just that I’ve said everything I could possibly say here.

I think the community thing is important. When I started a blog over at Xanga, I had an incredible following. It really stroked my ego. But over time, it slowed down. People get tired of reading blogs. They get tired of commenting. I have to hand it to those of you (well, all two of you) who consistently leave comments on my diary. Thank you. It just makes my day.

But I, too, have fallen behind in the blogging game. I’m not commenting nearly as much as I used to, and I confess that I’m not reading as many either. Why is it? I can’t blame it all on middle-aged presbyopea, can I?

And then there’s the question: Why do I keep a diary in the first place? When I was a teenager I kept one because I had some misguided idea that I would be the next Anne Frank (no, I wouldn’t die at the hand of the Nazis, but my diary would become literature). In university I kept one because I thought maybe I would want to refer to it someday. I started this one at a friend’s urging because of the community. I kept at it because I found that I enjoy writing.

But the community seems to have wandered off. So many of my original crowd have left this site for better-serviced pastures. Even I no longer pay for a gold membership. But I won’t leave. I’m too ensconced in this place. I just don’t know why, though. If I were to stop writing in my diary, if this were to be my very last entry, I wonder if I would miss it. It’s hard to say.

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