Braindump to Raise Confidence

I'm so close to the End.

I can feel it, right there.

It's looming straight ahead, if I can just reach.

Writing a novel is work man.

The kind that makes calloused hands.

A few tens-of-thousands of words back, I thought:

I'll never make it.

But here I am now, mere pages away.

And then.

What comes after?

Readers, I hope, at least some.

Things seem to have shaped up nicely so why...

Can't I decide what is still left unsaid?

Isn't it strange how follow-through...

Feels almost like getting letting down?

Even so, I'm here, so near it hurts.