AN: I know that I haven't uploaded at all in ages, but I never really felt motivated to write, and everything that I did write just felt very sub-par, and I don't want to force anyone to read my garbage. This is also the reason why I decided to remove the last chapter, as, rereading it some time later, I was in no way proud of it as it was me talking about myself and events in a blog-style fashion, which I know isn't fun to read and I didn't want that style/type of writing associated with me anymore. if you haven't read it, then trust me, you weren't missing much. It was terrible and, in hindsight, I'm disappointed in myself for even considering it worth uploading anyway.
I believe that this writing prompt comes from Tumblr, though I don't know who came up with it as that's not where I encountered it and no credit was given by the person who posted it on a different website. The prompt asks to include the line 'I know how it ends, of course I know. I just forgot how it began.' I thought that this might make for something at least remotely interesting, so I gave it a go. As always, legit criticism is always welcome as I'm looking to further develop my writing style into something worth reading, so if you have any ideas of how this can be improved, let me know! (Yeah, I know how short this actual story is very short but I enjoyed writing it so I hope someone'll read it at least once.)
Writing prompt thingy
"I know how it ends, of course I know. I just forgot how it began."
"That's how it always is, huh? What a waste."
His eyes snapped open, his face drenched in sweat. He'd had one of those dreams again. The dreams always seemed the same, yet they never were. They never made sense - they seemed disconnected from anything that he could even begin to comprehend. He stumbled out of his room and into the bathroom across the hall. The single dangling lightbulb failed to illuminate the room properly, causing the corners and awkward areas of the room to be completely cloaked in shadow.
He rose his head, staring into the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, with huge purple and blue bags rimming the space underneath. Beads of sweat caused his skin to glisten in the low lighting, and his long, greasy hair hung in a seemingly disgusting manner. He was unrecognisable, seeming to fit in with the grimy bathroom. He was such a shadow of the man that he'd been.
Returning to bed, he struggled to sleep again. Once he got to sleep, the dream began again.
"Why do you always say that?"
"Say what?"
"You know, the thing. You always say it at the end. Without fail."
"Because it's true. What a waste."
He awoke to sunlight shining through the thin curtains. He began to follow his morning routine, pulling on the same baggy, overly large clothing. He completed his usual tired clumsy walk to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, gazing back up into his own eyes, with that strange, unfamiliar recognisable face staring right back at him. He was a shell of a man, his charisma and charm completely destroyed, losing him his only worth - the field of people. Once a symbol of youth and beauty, everything that he had stood for was completely gone. There was nothing left of him anymore. He had nothing. He was nothing.
What a waste.