Sometimes I wonder if my decision to not attend the award ceremony in Washington was a stupid one. Sometimes I wonder if it's even true in the first place. For all I know, it could just be another big boogus plan to kidnap me. Twice I was invited to attend but somehow twice I ignored it.

I didn't think I would actually win it but it's all the way there. Who's gonna bring me there? My parents don't give a shit about it. They think nothing of it. Maybe to them being poetic or 'poetry-inclined' is not as good as when being compared to... say... an athlete (which my sibs are btw) or an ace is their studies? I dunno. They never showed that much interest anyway. So I never really exposed 'them'. Except to my friends or online sites.

Who knew that they actually wanted to publish my poems in one of their collections. But I never bothered to look for the book or buy the book. Maybe this time I should take that chance. At least, I know I am somehow capable of something - tho not that huge or fantastic.

But I rarely write now. Maybe my muse decided to take a long break since the author herself is not doing much anyway. It was like a hobby... it still is... just not as frequent anymore. It has become more of an emotional attachment kinda thing.

I'm not talented or anything but I'm happy when my readers enjoy reading my work. It gives me a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction to know that they could relate to my poems and that they could understand the message behind each and every poem.

Don't get me wrong. My poems are far from good. Some are crappy, some are just rubbish but it works like a diary to me because they capture those vivid, bittersweet memories by me penning those words down.

Oh well, the passion is there but the will to continue on is dying. I should just let it collect dust, which is what it's doing right now. Well, that's life. You make the wrong decisions, you make the right decisions. Either way, you have to live with the consequences. Cest La Vie.



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