Dear Favourite TV Show,
I love you. Truly, I do. The plot twists, the drama, the jokes, everything that makes you special – I love it all. Maybe, sometimes, I love you too much. Those are the times when my mind is consumed by thoughts of seeing you, when, despite an imperative 8:30 a.m. lecture, I stay up ‘til the wee hours telling myself, “Just one more episode.”
Every time I finish an episode, I ache for the next one. You know this, and yet you take no pity on me. As if it’s not bad enough that I have to wait a whole week – seven gruelling days, 168 dragging hours, 10,080 minutes that each seem to last a lifetime – to see my beloved characters.
But all of a sudden, you up and decide to go on extended vacation, cutting all ties for months at a time. Yes, those dreaded mid-season breaks. Perhaps they have some legitimate purpose, be it ‘writing’ or ‘casting’ or whatever the excuse, but I think that the true purpose of these breaks is just to torment your many admirers!
For most of the working world, a vacation lasts a mere one to two weeks. Not for you. Your vacations often last six entire months.
Months of waiting and wanting and wondering; of reading outlandish theories on fan forums online; of scouring the internet until my eyes hurt and my brain has turned to mush for trailers, leaked video clips, set photos, anything to keep me going. For a while, the pain of withdrawal is acute, all-consuming. It gradually fades to a slow, dull ache, no longer claiming all of my focus but always present in the back of my mind.
I love you, but these mid-season hiatuses are poisoning your perfection. Please, please, don’t put me through the pain again … though don’t we both know that even if you do, I’ll be there waiting for you when you return.
Yours as ever,