In my beginning is my end

How does one begin such a thing... I believe in an end but how can there be a beginning, as ' everything that begins does so in time; therefore time itself cannot have a beginning. '

That's a lot of beginnings to put in one sentence, but I guess in my horribly hung-over state it is getting the message through...My first post. I was always shit at these. Getting started... Trying to be real rather than cloaking my words in supercilious nonsense. I'm like a little kid jumping up and down yelling I'm smart...no really, I am, and then a guy shouts over I bet you don't know what impudence means, and I say of course I do because I'm so smART!

I always found it easier to write a long essay type than a short basic introduction. It pains me to write the last word and leave the story behind. The story will continue on without me, for no story is ever entirely complete. It's like leaving behind an old friend who will branch out and have stories of their own that no longer include you. At times we will weave in and out of each others lives, playing bit roles, helping and hindering others but mostly carrying the stories alone, as we all must until we die. The stories will live on without us in the dusty recesses of some old book waiting for their chance to be read and reissued.