so here's where it ends...or is it?

lesson for the day - some things do, MUST come to an end.like couples in college who you thought would end up getting married or that dream to be a good writer, write a book, win a palanca.from now on,i will be known as she-who-wanted-to-be-a-writer to she-who-WANTED-to-be-a-writer.true, the decline in my interest to pursue a literary career began shortly after i embarked on a a real job, more than a year and a ago.maybe i'm still secretly reeling from not getting the affirmation i wanted(get over it!), or i'm getting too lazy and complacent,maybe i wasn't really into it and it was just a phase, one that ended shortly after i graduated. and that maybe, this isn't what i really want to do.i don't know.but today, after all these months, i'm not even remotely worried that i am not writing anymore or ever again.what happened to those grand palanca dreams and the books i've thought of titles and sub-sections for?gone, gone to the place where my literary passion and poetic rhythm has fled.i used to crave for books and poems i could read and i'd remember them even without trying.now i can barely even remember a line or two of my poem or who wrote which poem. i used to be able to hear a poetic rhythm in my head when an idea for a poem forms in my head.even when i am still thinking of what i want to write, fragments of lines and images would already come to me.but now, i struggle to try to even identify what poetry is and isn't.i guess it isn't helping that i feel alienated and detached from my other friends who also write.i barely remember the last time i wrote a decent poem, much less the last poetry reading i went/got invited to.i guess it also doesn't help that i didn't make any monumental effort to keep in touch and not lose myself in work and excuses of "i'm too busy".or maybe, and here's the cue for the grand entrance of paranoia and insecurity, i'm not stimulating or interesting enough and people easily forget and dismiss me. i'm too afraid and too full of pride to ask why people don't invite me anymore to their poetry readings or share their poems with me.or why they don't talk to me about my poetry anymore or why we don't even hang out anymore. and as with a lot of things, i don't know.but that's not where it ends. some things do, MUST come to an end. so other better things can begin.