I’m hung up on The Blacklist.
I’m hung up on brilliant writing, cold-blooded murders, deception, manipulation, justice, and purjury. But most of all, I’m hung up on human nature.
Ego. It’s a weird word. It sounds weird. It looks weird. And it means more than its disyllabic utterance. At the end of every episode of every season of every show, I had to question my instincts about human nature and all I thought I knew about love and ego.
Humans are egotistic bastards. Nothing changes that.
But love changes anything.
The revelation surprised me. After all, I had lost all hope in humanity. I felt rather negative about humans. How could anyone demand control over another? I hated it that parents could dominate their child’s life. I couldn’t bear the thought of one person dictating entire nations. It felt like hypnosis — in a world that prides itself democratic.
But then I saw The Blacklist. It strengthened my feelings, of course, but it shook my beliefs as well.
I hadn’t thought anyone could ever care for another so much as to go to any lengths to fight for the ones they cared. No matter the price — even if it were the ego they held most dear — they’d give it up nonetheless. Because, love.
And at that moment, I regained hope in humanity. I know, The Blacklist is nothing more than awesome fiction. But we are a race that thrives on fiction. We seek inspiration in non existence. Fiction taught me survival in a world of dangerous, manipulative people. But fiction also showed me the world has people who’d give up everything they treasured to protect those they loved.
Perhaps humility will endure. Wait till I finish the series.