Dear Supernatural, I Love You. Why Do You Treat Me So Bad?

Dear Supernatural,

I love you, I really do. You’re handsome, you’re funny, you’re clever and you’re playful.  But I’m starting to fear that we’re in an abusive relationship.

When I first saw you, it was a passing glimpse of a Destiel video, and I fell head over heels. Now here I am with your entire box set and I’m really getting to know you at last. I love your cheeky meta analysis and your pop culture references. I love the the fact that your main characters are complicated and not always admirable, or sometimes entirely likeable.

So what’s the problem? The problem is the things you keep saying about people like me.

People like me, our sexual desire is a joke, and people like you decide who we may give it to. People like me are deserving of contempt if we desire the companionship of people like you. People like me can only be brave when a person like you for whom we feel love is threatened. People like me only deserve respect when we are married parents and of no sexual interest to you. People like me have no purpose or ambition that doesn’t relate to people like you. People like me will never pursue honour or justice or ambition or excellence or a way of making the world a better place unless we’re directly motivated by the love of people like you. People like me can never truly love each other as friends and siblings the way people like you do. People like me have stupid emotions that destroy their capacity to think or act, but people like you have right and proper feelings of rage and vengeance and pain and non-romantic love that drive you on. People like me are a hindrance or a plot device or a burden or a responsibility or a thing to be protected or fucked. People like me aren’t real people at all.

Remember, I still love you, Supernatural. I never want to leave you. I’m hoping you can learn and change. But please, stop breaking my heart this way.

All my love,



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