So many true life tales end with unmendable hearts. Why then, do the stories we invent most often circumvent the tragedies that realities bring? See that’s the thing - we see these neat endings, these sweet everafters and we wonder what we’re doing wrong - with all our messy leftovers that we’re left bereft over, with our tangled plots all tied in knots. There are no hero’s journeys here, no golden sunsets to ride into…

In comparison, we all fall short, our grand plans thwarted, dreams aborted for more settled schemes. Our actions are erratic and unhinged – no formula to keep our chaos in. Rising conflict does not always end in resolution, wrongdoings aren’t promised retribution.

In life, not every symbol has a hidden meaning to be gleaned - not every scene will drive our stories on. For the most part, we’re just plodding on, nodding, smiling, meanwhiling. So much monotony and so little melodrama. We spend whole decades brushing teeth and sweeping, sitting on the bus or sleeping. So little time is spent head over heels or weeping for the one that got away. 

Who will tell the story of the man who tied his shoelaces? The woman who forgot her umbrella one day, which had no consequence apart from bad hair and a soggy pair of socks? Who will describe the love that was never resolved? The crime that will forever stay unsolved? The never-spoken-out-loud inner thoughts we ought to hear but never can? 

The shortcomings of language rob us of true shared expression. The rigid moulds of modern movies teach us how to act in only simple situations. Three act structures, catalysts and typecast cut-outs, shoot-outs, grand romances, always second chances. Everything is black and white and everything will be alright…

In contrast we feel cheated out of our conclusions; the intrusion of erratic obstacles confuses us. Where is our Hollywood kiss? Our starlit profession of undying love? Why do our own antagonists not crumble, stumble at the final hurdle, leaving us triumphant? Where is our answer in the final act?

No harm, of course, when we perceive the falseness of these tales, accepting them for myths as they are meant, but, take care not to weigh up your own lot with lives so neatly tied or lofty loves so sweetly heaven sent.