Futility?

I had a lovely compliment form a fellow blogger, on Friday. She told me she thought me a "...kick-ass writer".

That's a fine thing, especially when the person in question is themselves a kick-ass writer.

A small voice in my head, the one that's always waiting in the wings, said "So what?"

That led to a run of thoughts, pouring through me like so much polluted water.
~~~~~
I am a writer
Whose words go unread.

I am a singer
Whose music is unheard.

I am a photographer
Whose pictures go unseen.

I am an artist
Without an audience.

So what's the fucking point?
~~~~~
And that's just it...I keep wondering why the hell I bother. There are insanely talented people in the world who struggle to earn their crust...and there are vacuous twits who blink and giggle, no talent hacks who make millions, are famous and well known simply for existing. I'm not insanely talented (just insane), but I'm no hack, either. So why the struggle...and is it worth it, really? I don't know about you, but I don't like feeling as though I have to beg , to chase after people to get them to see or hear. Maybe I should quite doing what suits me, take some classes, learn what the commercial world tells me to. Maybe I should stop doing what pleases me and just do what everyone else does or wants. Maybe there's a reason I'm not being noticed...and maybe I should take the hint and give it up.

So...what do you do when you hit this great big wall?