This is a post I never would’ve imagined writing earlier, but 2020 is, apparently, the year of saying goodbye.
And one of fandom things which I’ve held dearest to me in the past 5+ years is coming to an end this year, in a few months’ time. Yeah, I know—what’s my fiveish years compared to people who’ve been fans for the past fifteen? Or, compared to what I still feel about characters I’ve loved for more than twenty years, do these five even count? Oh hell sure they do.
Because fandoms change lives. And this particular fandom has more than changed mine, and a lot, and for the better.
And now I’m out of words. Supernatural has been such a personal thing for me, for so long, and still, all I can think about are other people, both fans of the show and not, and their reactions. While typing out a post which is (was supposed to be) my reaction to the end of an era which just happened to encompass a good portion of my life, too. Written around the last day of Jared Padalecki’s on set filming, which prompted all these effin feelings I’m having right now.
Well. I’ve written about fandom, and some of the more personal aspects of it, before. I’ve cosplayed three characters from the show so far. (Maybe even four, if you count the way I choose which flannel shirts to buy.) I’ve written fic. I’ve read and reread fics innumerable. And still it’s only my second favourite tv show ever. Nobody’s perfect.
From the perspective of a writer, an identity which most definitely influenced my choice of title for this post, it was one hell of a ride. From the perspective of a fan, it was even wilder. So here’s the truth: I’m lacking words. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Earlier (you know, pre-pandemic), my feelings revolved more around, well, all good things come to an end. I’ve had shit end on me before. (The final Hannibal episode viewing was a weird experience, for one. Goodbye, Sam is still one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen, too.)
As of this year, I have only one (1) ongoing old fandom consisting of the original characters the fandom started with (well, at least one of them). (I’m not counting reboots, sorry, I’m just… there’s only so much megacorporate bullshit I can handle before I call it quits.) Weirdly enough, it’s not making me feel old. It’s making me feel sad. In a simple, pure way, and no less heavy because of it. I’ve got tons of new fandoms, always have, always will have.
And still today’s posts hit hard, all over. Yeah, even the makeup artist ones.
And still I couldn’t fight the urge to share. Even though, it seems, I’ve got no idea how to finish this post.
So. Endings are hard. And the sky is the limit. And rewatching is a thing which happens. And this was always going to be a totally shit time. Two more months (and eight days) to go. And then…