When It’s The End?

How do you know when it’s time to move on? Is it possible to know, or do you just have to hope.

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Time and time again we find ourselves in the position of asking this same question; Is this over? This question is sometimes brought about organically. Then other times we feel pushed to ask it, or inclined to desire for an answer one way or another. Of course, it is entirely possible to enjoy something from its conception through to its completion without at any point pondering that conclusive query. However, that isn’t what this conversation is about. This question applies to almost everything. Relationships, careers, friendships, social functions you didn’t even want to attend in the first place. There is a myriad of reasons. The point though, is how do you know when its over?

Is there an amount of time that you dedicate specifically? Is it until you achieve something specific? Do you ride it out until you’re miserable and can’t tell whether or not its you or them? It’s probably a mix of all of those, as well as others. I think this concept applies very directly to writing a story. Lets say you felt inspired and wrote something wonderful. It is well within human instinct to try and make it more than maybe what it was meant to be. In that case you add more, and then more. Until the story you had once perceived as beautiful has overstayed its welcome.

Perhaps you added too many chapters. Broke the story into too many different sections and you lost your direction. Alternatively it could be the characters. Their purpose was muddied and now you don’t recognize them as the ones you discovered in the beginning. How does one even start to correct that? How do you find its perfect ending? More to the point, how do you prevent yourself from forcing it past its natural conclusion to begin with? I suppose that nobody has the correct answer to a question this huge and theoretical. Which in the end is probably what makes life so interesting.

There really is no way to properly mitigate this scenario. Things will start, and will go along as they are meant to until ultimately as everything does, it stops. It is the reality of all things and in that there is comfort. The same way that you can rely on your Netflix to cut you off halfway through a satisfying binge session and ask “Are you still watching?”.

The best we can do is to remain open to possibilities of adventure. Pursue the things we desire and hope that when the story has run its course we’re able to move on seamlessly to a new chapter. Without forcing the narrative past its natural conclusion. I mean really, there is nothing worse then reading a book that loses its passion halfway through. Like those Twilight books am I right? (Is that beating a dead horse? Sorry Steph Meyer)

As a writer this topic is important to me, and as a human being trying to live life, its even more important. As it is to everyone else as well. I assume anyway, maybe there are some people who love over staying their welcome out there. Regardless, I hope that my ramblings and hopeful metaphors bring possible clarity to any of you dealing with a potential end to something important.

As always, love deeply and be weird.

 

 

 

 

A Song to Cry To

This is my fourth attempt at writing this line. I think thats because I strongly dislike starting the conversation. Even here, by myself, to a potentially non-existent audience. Which is a very good point as well right? If there is no audience then why write. I am sure some of you are asking why I write these at all. Maybe I bore you, or maybe my writing is boorish. Either way. For those of you actually reading this, thank you. Oh, and I probably like you. Maybe a lot, or maybe only a little. Part of that is because you’re choosing to read this instead of something else which would probably be more rewarding.

Something I like to do a lot is make statements. I also love asking questions. However if any of you were to ask me whether or not I enjoy either of those you’ll probably get a response similar to “No, I don’t like either of those. Why?”.  Which is an entirely perfect example of who I am. At least at this exact moment or at least who I pretend to me. Its kind of fucked really. (Sorry mom, bad language is bad.)

The truth is, while I claim to dislike people, conversation and small talk. I actually like those things. Its probably some deep seated fear of abandonment or failure that prevents me from reaching out or actually participating. I’m trying though, and learning and growing (you know, grown up stuff). This really does feel kind of syrupy and sweet though doesn’t it? As if I’m writing some tell-all in the hopes that any one of you will relate and think that I’m interesting. Unless that comment is just me self-deprecating in the hopes of also relating and hooking you in because of some twisted fascination you may have with people who talk too much about feelings.

Regardless. There was a point to me starting this thing, and even a point to the title. If you bare with me I’m sure we will make it that far.

Okay.

I guess I just wanted to paint a picture. It’s sometimes thought of that crying is a sign of a weakness or sadness or any other thing that is anything other than beautiful. I disagree with that. A lot, and for specific reasons. As I’m sure a lot of you know, its an incredible release of emotional build up and can be extraordinarily therapeutic. Also, Its healthy. Whether you’re genuinely sad or not, its sometimes just the thing you need. I don’t necessarily mean that you should garner a habit for it and stock up on kleenex. Just that maybe if for some reason you feel a pull in that direction maybe you follow it.

I myself fight it, instinctually. Sometimes it seeps through and other times its bottled.  Either way, something I appreciate as I grow older (cliché, I know) is when you find a song that just splits your heart open and eases out those tears. I’m sure every one can relate to that. Thanks for listening, or reading I suppose.

Life is exactly what you make it. The only things truly in your control are your actions. and your reactions.

Sorry if I come off as pretentious. I promise that in life I’m more deer in the headlights and less modern day wanna be philosopher.