We all have them — books we started but never finished.
They sit on shelves or bedside tables, bookmarked halfway, waiting patiently.
And strangely, they still mean something.
You remember where you bought it.
Maybe a quiet afternoon. A rainy weekend. A hopeful moment.
You read a few chapters. Highlighted a sentence. Thought, “This is exactly what I needed.”
But life happened.
Schedules filled. Moods shifted. The book stayed open — then closed.
And still, you don’t throw it away.
Because it reminds you of who you were in that moment.
What you were looking for. What you wanted to feel.
Some books give us more in the beginning than in the end.
You see it every time you dust the shelf.
Sometimes you pick it up.
Sometimes you just let it be.
And that’s okay.
We don’t have to finish everything to find value in it.
Not every story needs closure to be meaningful.
On a quiet night, you pause between chapters of something else.
You open your phone, scroll for a second — a match result, a glance at 안전한카지노, a quick mental break.
Then you return to the page.
Or you don’t. But either way, you’re present.
Books, like people, hold different meanings at different times.
You may never finish that story.
But it was part of yours — and that’s enough.
So leave the bookmark where it is.
Let the book wait. Let it be unfinished.
Because sometimes, what matters isn’t the ending —
It’s the moment when you began.