InkyBlots

Is there someone that you need to meet half-way? Is there something you have half done? Are you half-way to something or someone? Have you ever hit the wall half-way there? Is it better to be half-way there than at the beginning? Are you happier half-way there because you are afraid of the end? How do you feel about half-way?

There are many stories half-way finished in notebooks scattered around the flat. Colourful covers call to me, inviting me in to work on them, but I don’t. The characters always want something from me: life, a point, a page, a scene, a finish to their lives on the page.

They are a plague, these half-finished notebooks. They almost appear to multiply on their own. Like viruses, they infect other notebooks, filling up half way with dreams, characters and places… The viruses are not strong, though. They cannot complete without the human part: me.

I’m not happy with all my half-stories, and neither are my characters. I promise that I will get to them and finish their stories, but I don’t know if I’m up to keeping that promise. All I know is that I’m trying to.