Sometimes I Think

Sometimes I look back upon the old stories I’ve read and smile fondly. Then I come across an unfinished story that I favorited, and I can’t help but feel sad for the endings that never were. I give myself a moment, then remind myself that the author is usually in a new chapter of their life at this point, and that they’ve possibly made something new for themselves. It’ll feel a little bittersweet, knowing that I’ll never get the endings to stories like Defect and A New World, A New Way, but if the authors are managing to live their lives to the fullest, then I’ll live without the ending.

Then, there are other times where I think of the ideas I’ve had, the plethora of stories I could have made. Most of them aren’t that great, but it still pleased me at the time to write my ideas down, and hopefully get it out there some day. Whenever I look back at this, I’m left with nothing but regret, because I have four whole stories that, at some point, had words, ideas, concepts, the whole nine yards. Now, they’re nothing more than titles of things that will never be.