Bloble

It's weird when stuff ends. TV shows, video games, books, pretty much anything that you'd normally sink hours into. What was once a favourite time sink is now gone. You can't just mindlessly rely on it more. You can't ever read a Harry Potter book for the first time after finishing the series. You'll never again go through seasons of anticipation and theory crafting while waiting to see how Breaking Bad will break your heart in the next episode. And you can only ever 100% Metal Gear Rising once, unless you delete your save and start over. But then you're just lying to yourself.

Basically, when something ends it leaves an it-shaped hole behind in your life. And that's not bad, but definitely weird, like losing a tooth or having a friend move slightly farther away or suddenly realizing you're too old to play laser tag on your birthday.

I miss laser tag. Good thing paintball is just as fun.

I finished a story yesterday. It was something I'd worked on for almost two years in my spare time. I didn't dedicate hours every day to that story; maybe one or two a week if I had free time. I can't call it anything special or exceptionally amazing, but it was a fun time sink. Writing makes me feel like I'm ever-so-slightly improving myself with each word, so to suddenly have a mainstay of my life end is leaving me feeling kinda miffed, especially since I've basically run out of ideas for smutty one-shots.

When I started that story, I certainly had an ending in mind. I even looked forward to finishing it and starting on something new. But as the days passed I thought less about the end and just enjoyed that hobby for what it was, so much so that it's a bit surprising that day actually came. I certainly feel proud of myself for finishing that story, and thankful for the feedback, but now that it's over I actually feel kind of lost as well. I can't sit back and write it for my own enjoyment anymore.

Well, that's fine. Drifting around while looking for something new isn't terrible, either.