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It's an all-too-familiar feeling. Season two of your beloved TV show has just begun streaming, and optimism runs high. The initial run ended with such precision: upcoming stories were hinted at provocatively, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). After the season wrapped, you were perusing Reddit threads with dedicated fans to decode subtle references illuminating what would happen next.

Unfortunately, the return episode disappoints. It seems as if the creative team was swapped for algorithms. By the next installment, a beloved actor's character acts in a way that fans unanimously declare inconsistent. Halfway through the season, the writers appear to have memory loss concerning narrative arcs clearly established previously. And by the disappointing finale, you privately hope it had ended sooner.

The Curse of Prolonged Runs

Regretting a show's continuation is hindsight; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Take Kaos, a delightfully satirical take on Greek mythology featuring Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. Yet audiences can console themselves that their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I now wish it had been a limited series. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, with ten flawless installments. In 1996, a plane carrying an all-girl high school football team crashes in the middle of nowhere. Excellent actors (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) portrayed the team then and now. There were multiple award nominations, creators confidently planned five seasons to tell the story in necessary detail. But last week, it was announced that it would end with season four. I felt grateful as a viewer.

Gaten Matarazzo, Finn Wolfhard, Caleb McLaughlin and Noah Schnapp in the forthcoming fifth season of Stranger Things.

The show has made narrative choices that have undermined its heart. In place of exploring post-rescue life, and watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. This involved a wearying pattern of highlighting added personalities (such as Shauna’s two-dimensional daughter Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It’s frustrating, and as a viewer, it is depressing to see your favorite show morph slowly into a hate-watch.

An Increasing Pattern

But it’s not only Yellowjackets. Shows such as Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things lack original impact, and fallen headfirst into expected or comfortable cliches. At times, programs must stop while successful.

Indeed, pleasures exist in single-season stories. From Sharp Objects to I May Destroy You to Adolescence, writers understand when narratives find completion. Yet the spell breaks for programs including Big Little Lies, first conceived as self-contained, return repeatedly with declining quality. Perhaps Adolescence's team reconsidered a second season.

The Supreme Instance

I wish Yellowjackets could have been a one-and-done series, residing permanently in our thoughts, cliffhangers and all. My top series ever followed this pattern. The classic teen series, the ideal adolescent show, concluded after a single run but was cinematic in its scope: its characters were difficult and contradictory, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the conversations avoided cliched adolescent writing. Its final episode was bitterly unresolved, yet this mirrors real life accurately of youth queries staying forever open. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to answer some of those questions. Though stored on outdated technology, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Unique Connection

If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more programmes can bow out when the time is right.

• Priya Elan focuses on cultural topics.