I used to have this thing, back when MixedSignalGirl served as my muse. More than a habit, it was, but less than a rule. I'd write something, every single night. Whether good, or bad, or indifferent, I'd always write at least one entry.

I liked it, back then. I always felt like I was accomplishing something, each and every day. Even if my so-called accomplishment was nothing more than vomiting drivel onto the internet, it was still better than nothing. And it made me feel like I was better than nothing.

I'd like to be able to feel that way again.

People are getting fed up with me. Grudging respect has morphed into disdain and pity. Impatience and frustration rule every interaction. I hear it in their voices. I read it in their emails and in the comments they leave on my blogs.

I see it in their eyes.

I see it in my eyes, when I dare to look into a mirror.

It's almost time, I think.

This used to be about me. I could say whatever I wanted to say, because nobody was listening. I could feel whatever my heart compelled me to feel, because nobody cared. Not really.

But it's not about me anymore. Now that emotional and physical separation has been taken away, there are others. Wonderful, amazing others.

To most people, this has been naught but a show. A one-man play, with one improvised scene that has continued for years. Audiences have come and gone, interest has waxed and waned, and I have continued my performance, oblivious. The hero and the villain and the comic relief, all rolled into one.

When do I stop? When do I take a bow? When do allow the curtain to close?

This is coming to an end, I think.

It's almost time, I think.