Saying goodbye to Game of Thrones means saying goodbye to:
- 20 year old you that started watching this show trying to escape exam anxiety
- overdone 9gag memes about Sean Bean dying all the time
- a best friend who couldn’t watch S04E02 with you, but left love notes and chocolates, encouraging you to watch it alone (if that’s not love, what is?)
- comically unsuccessful plans to watch the season premiere with your long distance friends (side effect: contracting chicken pox on the day of S06E01)
- frantic messages on Monday mornings “did you see it” “do you have it” “can you give it” “is it good? don’t tell me anything pls”
- a considerable chunk of your 20s
- your hopes of a Breaking Badesque finale as a reward to your loyalty
To fellow fans, we came for the sex scenes, stayed for the plot. We wanted Jaime dead, and then we fell in love with him. We hailed Robb as the young wolf, but couldn’t see him rule. Oberyn told us that it wasn’t the day he would die, but he got killed anyway. We saw Arya renouncing her identity, and we saw her take it back. We hated the Hound, and then we cheered for him. We were thrilled at Margery trying hoodwink the High Septon, but Cersei was many steps ahead. We’ve been disappointed by this season, but we still had seven good seasons (Okay, six. Fine, five)
I survived and thrived in my 20s with this show. Theorising, fangirling, disputing, hypothesising, and screaming abuses through eight long seasons over 7 long years, and here we are.
My favourite show has ended horribly, I’m no longer 20, 9gag is a dumpster fire, long distance friends are spread over continents, I can’t live with my best friend anymore, and it’s time for me to move on.