What happens to stories started but never finished? to the books we opened but never read 'til the end?
Do they linger in the back of our minds hoping that one day we'll stumble upon them and bring them once again into the open?
or do they hide from us in the darkness concealing every thread that we have of them in our memory because they think us unworthy of things they have once offered but have refused to take?
Do they stay within us and no matter how small they are, influence us into which path to take?
I can only wonder of the day they will fuse together and be a monster that will eat me alive in my thoughts and in my dreams.