Goodbye, Arrow. Goodbye

Please don’t ever come back. Into my life, into the world, into existence. Please, let me forget I ever invested my life into something that was going to end up being so …unsatisfying.

I hated Tony Stark’s death. It soured the MCU for me to the point that I have, to this day, not been able to watch Spider-Man: Far From Home. But hey, at least Tony got 5 years of happiness, and though he absolutely shouldn’t have been the one to snap, he made the kind of choice it’s hard to judge him for – he was saving the universe, his wife, his daughter, Peter and all his friends combined.

Oliver, in the meantime, barely got any time with his wife or daughter, very little quality time with his son, and oh yes, sacrificed himself for plot reasons and shock value, or maybe because someone had to die in a crossover called Crisis on Infinite Earths, and who else were they willing to sacrifice if not the guy whose show was ending?

Before the finale aired, I thought I could write a good, nostalgic goodbye letter. I might not have watched Arrow regularly in years (season 5 broke me, it legitimately broke me), but I remember how much I enjoyed it in the beginning, how fun it was to come online, to participate in fandom, to feel excitement at the prospect of TV. I loved Arrow , and that love brought me amazing friends, and so many good things.

I’ll keep the people; I’m just going to try to re-write our origin story at this point, because I really, really want to erase Arrow from my consciousness.

Thankfully, I was never interested in watching the spin-off. I could care the same amount of nothing about Mia, the Diggle kids, Laurel and Dinah. I also don’t really want to invest in the rest of the Arrowverse, either, at least not the shows already established. How’s The Flash gonna end? Is Barry gonna sacrifice himself for Iris? Will Kara do so for her sister on Supergirl? Is death the only ending these people understand?

You know who’s not gonna be here to find out?

Me.

I’m going to be somewhere else, in the land of good storytelling and payoff. One populated by good, diverse writers with new ideas, new ways of approaching characters. And I’m keeping the friends I made thanks to you, and leading them into new, better places.

So goodbye, Arrow. I thought I was going to miss you, but if this final season taught me something, it’s that you and I were never destined to be together. If anything, I should thank you for reinforcing the Game of Thrones and Avengers: Endgame lesson: that there will always be writers who place “edgy” and “shocking” over the one thing finales should be: satisfying.

That’s not the kind of writer I want to be, not the kind of entertainment I want to support.

See you never. Don’t come knocking on my door anymore.

I’ve already forgotten you.