For this last piece of writing, I won’t mince words and tell you straight away: It has come to an end. I won’t be writing anymore more of this story.

Now, I’m not gonna simply leave the already written chapters forever locked behind a paywall. But after long meditation and prayer on the subject, the decision was simply staring me in the face all along and I simply didn’t want to admit it. So finally being in the right mind space with the time to write this piece, I come to rip the bandaid off.

If you want a bit of context, I will not excuse the ‘abrupt’ end, even after my promises which I may not have outright broken as I understand them, but that is the way of Humans, always finding the smallest of loopholes, unwilling to admit in full their wrongs.

Even before this last time, I stopped writing, for forces beyond my control, I struggled with the course of my story. Each time I came back, it was a little different, I was a little different. But this time, after I stopped releasing chapters, the mismatch was too great. Something is lacking in the old pursuit. I know I could get myself reinvested enough to keep going, with grit and will, I could finish it against my better judgment. At the start, I would never have imagined I could ever really finish it and make it even half of what it is now, but looking back I can see so much more.

But even the grandest outcome I could hope for this story is a little backdrop against my present hopes. And my “gut” is telling me that something is wrong here. But not really my gut, something that comes from higher, much higher. As some would say:

I found God.

As he graciously showed me:

He found me.

Now before I give the wrong impression as I have had in the past, I’m not saying: “Ohh, now I found God through such and such Church. They disaproove of such and such but so bye heathens.” Churches and institutions of man are the last thing on my mind. I haven’t even heard anyone I congregate with talking ill of fiction movies and novels. But after I started another step in journey, I found it prudent to take up my own research on how profitable it would be for me to keep reading and writing fiction.

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All my research simply showed me what I was blinding myself to.

What am I comparing fiction to?

Reality.

In reality, through mercy, I found peace. I found happiness and hope. In reality, I met a God that is greater than I could have imagined and who gave me and anyone open to it certainty of his existence and of his unconditional Love to any who recognizes they are a sinner.

Now, instead of dreaming of a guiding gut or heart. Instead of a Legacy of an imperfect ancestor, I have something much greater. In the smallest of ways, I listen to the quiet voice in the wind. His wishes of me. So now:?

Nash’s story must come to an End. In the form of a Letter, a comment or somehow, but it must end.

Maybe what I say may be unsatisfying. It may sound unhinged or even entirely like madness, so for those who haven’t let it sink in, I will also put it in more practical terms.

From the day I understood myself as a thinking being, to about 3 years ago, I was Zombie. A zombie that sought whatever little escape from reality I could. At the worst moments, I spend 14-16 hours a day for weeks of even months reading/listening(audiobooks) until I got tired, and then… Tv series, then a little games, then movies, then back to reading. I can with almost certainty say, that to one degree or another, describes many more of you than I wished.

It was a long journey, from there to where I’m now.

Now, I’m here, like an Alcoholic burning his last bottle of whiskey. Old whiskey vintage handcrafted by himself decades prior, made by their own hands, when he was still young.

Though not Perfect, it’s from his own hands.

And this feeling of longing is half the reason why I can’t get near the stuff. Maybe for someone else, it would have no effect. Some people can go their entire life drinking and never having that one more glass that never ends. But for me, in the best case scenario, I would be falling to pride as I demonstrate My self-control or more likely the uncontrollable fall back to addiction.

So for now, I will leave you with these words, slightly different from usual, but they no longer ring as hollow, for each time I spoke similar words they gained weight, until today where they hold more Reality than the chair, the keyboard I type on and the screen you are holding:

I Love you, I hope the very best for you and if you are a slave to the desires and search for unreality that consumed my life, seek the help of a being that loves all of us more than we can comprehend. If you ask he will give you Life. He gave his divine self to provide a path for all of us.

He Loves you.