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It's an all-too-familiar feeling. Season two of your favorite TV show drops on your platform, and you're brimming with anticipation. The initial run ended with such precision: future plotlines were teased tantalisingly, and a key figure faced a shocking fate – or did they?. In the months since the finale, you were perusing Reddit threads with dedicated fans to decode subtle references illuminating what would happen next.

But the new season opener falls flat. The writing appears robotic and uninspired. By the next installment, a key performer makes a choice that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. By episode five, it becomes obvious the creators forgot around the storylines aggressively signposted in season one. By the lackluster conclusion, you long for an earlier termination.

The Pitfall of Too Many Seasons

Regretting a show's continuation is hindsight; most fans protest when their favorite shows are canned before they can get off the ground. Consider Kaos, a clever mythological satire featuring Jeff Goldblum, axed by Netflix because of weak audience numbers. But perhaps these fans will rest better with the knowledge the show's quality wasn't tarnished by a weak follow-up.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I prefer it had remained a self-contained narrative. The debut offered a richly imaginative setup, with ten flawless installments. Aircraft disaster leaves a teen girls' team isolated in 1996. Skilled performers (including Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) portrayed the team then and now. Several prize nominations followed, creators confidently planned five seasons to develop the plot thoroughly. But last week, it was announced that it would end with season four. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

Young actors prepare for Stranger Things' next chapter.

The show has made narrative choices that have undermined its heart. In place of exploring post-rescue life, and their struggle with traumatic memories, we were taken in directions that bloated the original premise. A fatiguing tendency emerged of highlighting added personalities (such as Shauna’s two-dimensional daughter Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. It’s frustrating, and watching a beloved program become tedious is sad.

An Increasing Pattern

But it’s not only Yellowjackets. Programs including Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things lack original impact, and embraced predictable tropes. At times, programs must stop while successful.

The thing is, there are joys to be had in a limited, “one-and-done” series. Looking at Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, TV creators know when to stop when the story has naturally reached an endpoint. Yet the spell breaks for programs including Big Little Lies, first conceived as self-contained, come back for more and more with diminishing returns. Perhaps Adolescence's team reconsidered a second season.

The Ideal Model

I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, living rent-free in our imaginations, mysteries intact. The best program I've seen succeeded this way. The classic teen series, the quintessential youth program, lasted for only one season yet felt epic in scale: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the visuals were beautifully seasonal, and the scripts transcended typical youth dialogue. The conclusion provided no neat resolution, 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. Despite existing on obsolete equipment, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Unique Connection

If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more shows can end gracefully.

• This writer covers entertainment and style.