Why do we plan an ending to the stories we pen or mostly are a part of?  Sometimes they are dejected and sometimes they turn out to be gleeful. It surely satisfies our inner writer, but what about the stories we are a part of? An obvious concept of happy ending would please us.

But to my disagreement, mostly the writers are shallow and pessimistic, they’d show what is unreal and depressing.

Now coming back to our own story!

We met unusually at a coffee shop, sharing an intense eye contact and ecstatic time. To my surprise, he greeted me with flowers and I couldn’t be happier. He wasn’t any less than a gentleman and I was totally awestruck with him on our first meet, yet I kept my imaginations low.
Daily meets and spending quality time for hours, it became a habit for both of us to see each other, though we knew that he was leaving in a couple of days. We could’ve stopped there, could’ve never seen each other thinking that he will leave and this might not even stand any value in our lives further, but did we give up? No!
All of those magical moments were to be kept unscathed, inside, till we confessed it to each other on the last day, that what we really feel for each other. There was a chill running down my spine and that moment was surreal.
And there he was, leaving, to which I never knew if we would ever meet again or not.
But was that an end to everything? I think not. That meeting was still very unsatisfactory to me, it didn’t make me feel content, not because he was leaving; maybe it was just a halt to something which is planned further.

Now, what would you call me? An overly optimistic writer? Or someone who’s lovestruck and can’t see the other side of the coin.

I believe, until you don’t feel complacent about something, never stop aiming for it. There will always be a solution, and it doesn’t have to be an ending.