Nobody misses you.
If you're a creative whose outlet is the Internet, or an art gallery, or a bookstore with a weekly reading event, or a cafe that hosts bands, or a bar, or any other outlet where musicians, aritists, vriters, even programmers or designers hand out, the solumn truth is simple: if you disappear, nobody misses you.
Oh, sure, people might ask in an idle moment, "Whatever happened to...?" But the fact is, other than idle moments, nobody misses you. There's too much good stuff on the Internet, too many distractions, too much beauty and loveliness and challenge.
A question sometimes asked is, "Where are the Shakespeares of today?" Well, there can be only one Shakespeare, only one person who first pushes forward the power of language with his quick wit and agile mind, but after he's done in, thousands have followed in his path, taking what he did and pushing it just a little faster, just a little further. Given how few people of his age were literate enough to write a mere letter, and given how many people now communicate with the written word every day, there are thousands, if not hundresds of thousands, of people with the wit and skill and verbal dexterity of Shakespeare. We don't appreciate them just because there are so many of them.
You could well be one of them.
But there are so many of them already. Regardless of taste in art, music, cinema, culture, etc., the distribution costs are so low, and the excess capacity of producers so great, that regardless of what is or where it's produced, your fans can probably afford to enjoy it.
Which means that unless you're producing something, injecting something into their thought stream that demands they pay attention to you, nobody misses you. You have to be producing all the time, creating something that keeps them interested at more or less the same rate as a slot machine, you will be, if not forgotten, at least subjected to fan silence until you produce more.