I'm tired, and when I'm tired, I'm down.
MKD and AF lovingly bought me the first season of Roswell for Xmas after I just once, briefly, mentioned that I had liked the show a bit back in the day.
And now? Oh how I love the teenage aliens and their dramatic lives! So angsty, so unsure, so.. alienated! Its what made Dawson's Creek great, minus the painful dialogue and never-ending forehead of James Van der Whathisfuck. Its why I cried, "Nothing ever happens in Rockville!" after watching the very first episode of 90210. Its Degrassi-cool, without the teen pregnancy but with a lot more conspiracy theory.
Once I finish with this season, I will have to buy the second season. And then I will obsessively watch the second season just like the first. Once I finish the second season, I will absolutely need to own the third. Except the third is the last season. And then what happens? Nothingness, emptiness, death.
All of this is theoretical because of my dwindling bank account. The second season was just released somewhat recently, so its still in the "my lapsed-protestant principles won't allow me to buy that at that price" area, regardless of my monetary funds. Worse- I don't think the third season is even on DVD yet. My love for Roswell is my greatest pain! My happiness is the seed of my own despair! How can I live in this cruel world?!
I don't get crushes on people anymore. That immense ache, that pressurized love, is now reserved for things. I am in love with Roswell. I used to be in love with Vin Diesel (actually, I'm still rather fond of him, but just not so much). Before that, I can't really remember anymore, they come so quick, and go away so much faster. These things- shows, celebrities- aren't real at all. I don't interact with them, I don't have any influence or say in their existence yet I am consumed! Consumed by the fires of hell!
I heard Firefly is a good show. And with my $25 gift card, affordable...