Happy Endings

I'm so sick of every book I read and every movie I watch having a happy ending. Life isn't that way.

I wasn't recently told that there are no happy endings in life.

A friend of mine suggested that, in actuality, life doesn't have endings (I'm assuming, aside from death). I suppose in a way this is true. Endings just lead to new beginnings.

Generally speaking, I don't really want a lot of real life in my fiction...but right now, happy endings seem to be a little much.

I just read a book called True Love (and other lies). It seems the biggest lie is the title. The book is about True Love. Period.

I don't even know what true love is. It feels like love is just a word people use to hurt other people right now. Though I know that's not really true for everyone. Nothing hurts more than love.

Why is it so impossible to come up with a story line where everything doesn't necessarily fall into place in the last five pages? Is that really too much to ask? Why can't the asshole continue to be an asshole (never learning that this girl was really the best thing that ever happened to him)? Why doesn't the girl just get left alone? These are real life events.

Looks like I'm going to have to write my own damn book. Starting now.