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Imagine yourself sitting on the iron throne. There is dead silence all around you except for some little birds chirping outside. Breathe in and feel the ashes of the city filling your lungs. Breathe out as if you were breathing fire like a dragon. Don’t move your body even if one of the swords is sticking your bottom with its pointy end.

As you listen to my words, you’re slowly falling into a deep sleep, like Lysa falling through the moon door. Even if you don’t know what’s coming next, I want you to relax. I know how hard it is for you right now.

How will you motivate yourself to get up on Monday mornings and go to work, when you can’t discuss the latest episode with your colleagues? What will you do on Sundays? Go to church? You know that churches are dangerous, they can blow up any moment like a great series. That’s not what you do. You drink wine and know nothing.

You just sit there in your chair numb, looking into the distance with an emotionless face like Bran. You’re just wandering around aimlessly like a white walker after killing the last human. You just feel braindead as if the mountain crushed your skull with his bare hands. Sometimes you just wish for some poisoned water from the temple of the Faceless Men.

You would give an arm and a leg for the show to continue. Or perhaps only a hand. Or maybe just a little finger. But no matter how precious something is, you have to let go of it ultimately, even if your life used to revolve around it. Just ask Theon if you don’t believe me.

At least the show was not a sausage fest, more like a feast for the eyes. After all, nothing sells better than orgies and bloody battles. Yes, the sex was great, and the fights were even better. But if you thought this would have a happy ending, you hadn’t been paying attention.

The ending was like the Red Wedding: you’ve been expecting a great culmination, but it turned out to be a disaster. And no amount of red herring is enough to prevent you from drawing the final conclusion: even a big budget cannot save a series from bad writing. By the way, the producers send their regards.

You feel cheated like Deanerys at Winterfell. The final season stabbed you in the back like Arya. It hit you in the heart when you least expected it, like the crossbow of Tyrion. You don’t have words to express how you feel, neither English nor Dothraki. You’re choked with emotion like Joffrey when he drank that wine. You’re as silent as the Night King, and all you want is to destroy everything.

Now you know the true meaning of Valar Morgulis: all characters must die. Now you’ll never know what Jon Snow didn’t know. You’ll never know all the things Tyrion knew. You’ll never know what Podrick did to those girls. But whenever you feel sad, just remember the saying: The long show dies but the cast survives.

Got has many faces like the House of Black and White. But there’s only one GOT and now it’s dead. And what do we say to the death of GOT? Not this way! Either way, it’s game over, so time to move on. Say a final goodbye to the show, don’t ghost it like Jon did to Ghost.

Don’t lose your head like Ned. Don’t lose face like Jaqen. Don’t go mad like Dany. When one door closes, another opens. There’s no need to hold onto it like Hodor.

Just look at the bright side of life. Summer is coming. You can go out to the Sun, so that you don’t freeze to death like the wildlings and don’t look as pale as the Night King on his horse.

You can ask your girl to bend the knee and make love to you like it was your last night on this world. And if you don’t have a lover, you might be lucky and find someone in your family.

You may feel that Game of Thrones was the one and only, but don’t close your heart! Perhaps a new equally great show will come along your way, just keep browsing Netflix.

And when your friends ask you who helped you let go of Game of Thrones, I want them to know it was me. I am a faceless man, I am no one. A man has a name, and his name is Gabriel Dee.

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