My audience is disappearing

6:44pm, apartment in Chandler, Arizona, Friday evening, April 1, 2022. Like most people, I have kept a running dialogue in my head with an imaginary audience since I was old enough to remember. Over the years that audience has consisted of many different entities; a vaguely defined cluster of friends, a camera crew, even God. It was cathartic believing someone, or something, cared about my most inner thoughts. After all, very few people have the time to listen, or regard, what others say. Consequently, to truly feel known, I didn’t see much recourse other than creating an eager fan base, imagined or otherwise. That started to change over the last couple of weeks. Writing consistently has alleviated my soul’s lonely drowning sensation and the need to concoct acceptance. My imaginary audience is disappearing. I am known (on some small level, but known nonetheless) through taking the time to write this post and share it with you.