It comes with shock that I am at a loss for words. How do I adequately explain what you have meant to me? All these years of faithfulness and adoration. It’s hard to really explain to people what a fictional television show could mean to me. In the end, you left me too soon, you broke my heart, but you left me satisfied; always wanting more but knowing that you ended in the most dignified way you could.
Three years ago it was recommended to me that I should watch a little AMC show which had just ended its third season. Having an open mind, I delved right in. What ensued was a three season binge watch that had me clawing at the bit for more. You were riveting, exhausting, beautiful, and everything I could have asked for in a television show. I quickly fell in love with everything Breaking Bad.
I became what you would call: obsessed. I wanted to know everything and anything about Breaking Bad and its actors. I wanted to explore every inch of the show, uncover what hidden messages would lead to big explosions and drama. I wanted to know all the details of the cast, as a show as beautifully acted as this deserved my full attention and awareness of which unbelievably talented actors portrayed these parts. No one could compare to the unease Bryan Cranston brought to Walter White, the sympathy Aaron Paul bestowed onto Jesse Pinkman, and the hurt and anger Anna Gunn emulated through Skyler White. Among them stood and equally gifted supporting cast, who deserved every accolade, every praise they received.
Luckily, as time progressed, I was no longer in a small minority. I became part of an audience that felt so close and so passionate about a show, I was no longer considered the crazy TV addict (ok, I still am, but at least I am not alone).
As the final weeks of the show drew nearer and nearer I felt as if I had become a part of a community. Everyone was clamoring at the bit to make last minute predictions, laments, and tried to find meaning in every little detail that creator (and genius) Vince Gilligan and crew presented to us. We all leaned on each other for emotional support and engaged in conversations about what the final last minutes would look like.
No one was prepared for the end. The show hit its peak during its final eight episode run, when everyone and anyone knew what Breaking Bad was, what it had created. Clutching to a blanket, with a box of tissues nearby, my head swarmed as I kept every ounce of attention I had on the last hour of my beloved show. As Walter took his last breath, I breathed a sigh of relief. The protagonist turned (debatably) antagonist’s journey had finally reached a head. Walter died defending himself, partner Jesse, and his meth empire. As much as I had come to despise the person Walter had become, I couldn’t be mad. I was too busy rejoicing over the life of Jesse Pinkman. The life he would continue to live as he had escaped his enslavement and freed himself completely of his captor (
RIP Todd). All the remaining pieces fell in line. Closure granted to each and every main character.
I was more than satisfied with the way you left me, Breaking Bad. You gave me everything I could have asked for and I wouldn’t change a single thing about it. After a finale like Dexter, which failed in every way it could have, you were the saving grace. What a series finale should look like. What a television show all together should look like. You went out on top, with more fans than ever. I salute you, I congratulate you, and I will always be a fan.