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The 5 Stages Of Grief After Finishing “House Of Cards” Way Too Quickly

1. Denial

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I did not just watch all of “House of Cards” in 24 hours. That’s not even possible. Seriously. That wasn’t me. Wait. Is this what addiction feels like? No, I don’t have that kind of problem. There has to be more hidden episodes somewhere that I can watch. I reject the fact that no other episodes exist. Come on, Netflix. I know you’re better than this. I just really don’t see the point in facing society without another episode.

2. Anger

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HONESTLY. Who the fuck decided 13 episodes was a season? It’s all bullshit. Fuck you, stranger on the street. I know you’re judging me for what I just did, and you’re an asshole. Who created Netflix? I blame them for this. They knew this day would come. Fuck them. Who made my Blu-ray player? That’s how I stream Netflix, so it must be that asshole’s fault. Or whoever created wi-fi. Or the Internet in general. You know what? No, just no. This is all Netflix’s fault. Damnit.

3. Bargaining

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Why didn’t they make more episodes? Next time, if they make more episodes, I promise not to watch them all in one day. If only I had gone outside today–maybe I wouldn’t have finished the entire damn season. Or if I’d eaten something other than ice cream. I wish I had recognized earlier that 13 hour-long episodes is, in fact, less than an entire day. It went by so fast. I would have tried to make it last longer. Maybe if I take a nap, I’ll wake up and there will magically be new episodes. And this time, I swear I’ll make it last more than two days. I’d do anything for just one more day–no, just one more HOUR of Frank Underwood.

4. Depression

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I sit in silence. I stare at the blank TV screen. I sigh. One small tear sadly tumbles down my cheek. My cat worries I won’t ever feed him again since I haven’t moved in three hours. I guess I could just start “Orange is the New Black”. Oh, what’s “Blackfish”? It’s about orcas? I love orca whales. I went to SeaWorld when I was little and loved Sham–OH MY GOD.

5. Acceptance

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Things aren’t okay. I’m not okay. But even though things aren’t great, each day gets a little easier. There are still plenty of options available. Just because I can’t lie in bed for hours on end watching Frank Underwood scheme in Washington, it doesn’t mean I can’t live my life. I’ll be okay. It’ll all be fine. Each day is a new day and each new day means I’m a day closer to season three. I don’t have to be happy about it. I just have to accept the reality of the situation and watch reruns of “The West Wing” until then.

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kaylatoering

I care about stuff. I'm a Diet Coke addict. I hate socks. I run on caffeine and optimism. I watch way too much TV and drink far too much wine. Minnesota native. East coast transplant. Basically, I'm awesome.

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