Out of the loop

I used to have a purpose here.

Words would open,

and people would step inside them.

Photos would breathe,

and someone would stop to look.

Now it feels like I’m slipping—

here,

and somewhere deeper than here.

I used to be the shy girl.

The quiet one with careful sentences.

Now I’m confident. Friendly.

Too loud, maybe.

Too distant, somehow.

I didn’t mean to become aloof.

I didn’t notice my hands pulling away

until there was space

where people used to stand.

They stopped reading.

So I stopped writing.

And when I tried again,

the words asked me

what the point was.

Is it pointless

to keep writing here

when no one is listening?

Is it pointless

to keep writing at all?

Am I slipping—

or just changing?

Am I out of the loop,

or standing at the edge of it,

deciding whether to step back in?