The Bane of Fiction

Why do we torture ourselves? 
We submit to these shows and books and movies that rip out our hearts and make us watch as they stop beating in our hands. They kill our favorite characters then leave us reminders of them for hours afterward, romanticizing them and making us pray these fictional people aren’t truly gone—as if they were every really there to begin with. They show us everything the dead are missing in their absence. Every ‘what if’ scenario is implanted in our minds and leaves, slowly and painfully, down our cheeks as we are reminded they aren’t coming back. 
 
And it never gets better. Every time we see a glimmer of hope, a smile, and a window into a happy future, it’s torn from us by the drama and improbable reality of worst-case scenarios. 
 
But we keep watching. We keep reading. We keep going forward. What’s coming on the next page, in the next scene—we know what we’re getting. What’s in store for us. There will be more, and it will hurt, and yet we’re still here. Why? 
Why do we torture ourselves?
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