Guys, there’s only one thing that gets Hannah and me through each week. It’s a glorious hour every Sunday from 9 to 10 pm. We keep this in the backs of our minds and it carries us through the Monday-Friday drudgery, come hell or high water or finals. If Sunday was a never-ending tunnel of procrastinated homework and raininess, which it usually is, then this one-hour block of television is the light at the end of that tunnel.
It’s our favorite TV show. Now, since this post is going to include all of the spoilers, I won’t mention it by name. Let’s call it The Rewsnoom, how about that? Last night, like all Sundays, Hannah and I frantically googled our University’s channel guide to HBO at 8:59. We found it in with seconds to spare and settled into the couch with a bag of M&M’s between us. Then the most emotional hour of our lives ensued.
They killed off our favorite character. Granted, all of the characters are either our favorite characters or our least favorite characters (it’s one of those), but still. This guy was the core of the show. From the first scene when you met him, you knew he was going to mean the world to you.
What you didn’t know is that he’d break your goddamn heart with one episode left of the series.
Yes, you read that correctly. The next episode of the series finale, and we were completely blindsided. Hann and I looked at each other with tears in our eyes and whispered, what the fuck?? The light at the end of our tunnel flickered and died.
(Sidenote: that dramatically-lit picture at the top represents nothing about the show except for the fact that it features the actors. The way they’re positioned makes little to no sense.)
So that’s where I’m at. Coping, I guess. I’ll accept kindly-worded grief cards and fruit baskets to help ease my pain, if you needed any ideas. And if you’re going through some similar television-spurred emotions, I recommend looking at a previous post about the Five Stages of Mourning the end of a TV series. We’ll get through this.