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I have trouble letting go of everything. Family. Friends. Boyfriend. I don't think I've made significant progress on any of those fronts this year. Although there is something I had to let go this year, that as trivial as it may seem to some, had quite an impact: the end of Lost. Why did I let it go? Because it made me.
Ironically, the finale of Lost is all about letting go, or better, moving on. Anyone who knows me knows that I get hooked on certain things and won't hear a bad word against them. Star Wars. The Godfather. Titanic. Harry Potter. When this happens I spend an inordinate amount of time reading, watching and listening to anything and everything I can about it. This was always true of Lost, but this May saw an especially embarrassing period of obsession. Articles, online videos, Times Talk, marathons—so much time was spent saying goodbye. But I believe it was all integral to the letting go process. It's my way of coping: excessive attention. I have been meaning to write my thoughts on the finale of Lost since it aired. I wanted to give it a second viewing before writing but I physically and emotionally could not bring myself to watch it again. And I couldn't do it until three months later. Even rewatching it after all that time took it out of me. I sat on the couch crying my eyes out, mourning the loss all over again.
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And that's OK. As long as I accept what Lost creator, Damon Lindelof, tweeted the day after the show aired "Remember. Let go. Move on. I will miss it more than I can ever say."
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