I have just finished How I Met Your Mother this week and it’s been weighing on my mind - stained glass and broken parts. There’s a flawed logic in HIMYM. Not everyone’s story gets wrapped up so wholly. Sometimes we’re left with are questions and fragments of memories. I think that’s the thing about consuming TV shows and movies and novels - somewhere along the way, you start thinking life has perfect beginnings, ends, and middles. That everything always gets wrapped up in a tight little bow. Maybe I need a break from consuming for a while. A little detox. Detoxing the idea that things will have conclusions and give me closure.
