My story sat in front of me on college ruled paper. I twirled my pen restlessly, and occasional chewed on the end. Was it done? Was it? I couldn't decide. There was a beginning, middle, and end. the conflict was done, but it seemed to be missing something. I didn't have anything left to say, did I?
That was my dilemma. How could I be sure that my story was at an end? I had no choice, so I went to someone for help.
"So, what do you think?" I asked after they had read it.
"It's good, but the ending isn't quite right." they said.
"Yeah, I know."
I pondered over my issue for a few hours. Then, I got bored. Maybe doing something different would help. I read a great book, and went back to my story. I read through it twice, and suddenly I knew. I just knew what I needed. As I wrote the last sentence I realized I was trying too hard. What I had needed was something straight from my heart. I had nothing left to say. I was finished.
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