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A Letter to Fleabag: An Ode to Complexity and Imperfection

The opinions expressed in this article are the writer’s own and do not reflect the views of Her Campus.
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at MUJ chapter.

The opinions expressed in this article are the writer’s own and do not reflect the views of Her Campus.

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at MUJ chapter.

Dear Fleabag

For the longest time, I have thought of writing this letter to you, but due to one reason or another it just couldn’t make it to you. However, now it seems like the perfect time to write. You see, I am just way too emotional right now and have somehow found this courage in me to finally write to you. For me you were not just a fictional character, to me you have always been a whole real person, who was somehow able to channel all the messiness of the modern world and every other contradiction that stays in us. Watching you was like watching someone so close to me, someone whose struggle felt so personal and at the same time it felt so frustrating to see you sabotage so many things in your life, something I have been doing as well. This letter won’t be a cheesy one, worry not, you and I both hate too many emotions that I know well, so just buckle up for the ride.

 When you first appeared on my laptop screen, you were just a series recommendation I’d been getting for the longest of time. Everyone raves about you and tells me just how perfect you are. Believe me I was sceptical, but then you came with your wittiness and sarcasm, lifting your top in the bank and with your guinea pig café and you left me in awe. As you talked with the camera and told me all about your thoughts and feelings, it seems that we have developed an understanding, you know how frustrating it is to live a perfect life, how difficult it is be the perfect woman and at the same time how scary it is to let yourself be vulnerable to anyone out there. You showed me so much about life that I never had the courage to accept. You made me confront my inhibitions head-on, something I never allow myself to do.

 Your story didn’t just glorify women, nor it stigmatised our existence, it just showed that we existed. Neither too perfectly nor too flawlessly and just like that I fell in love with you (come on you expected some cheesiness). On the surface you seem a little irrelevant, promiscuous, way too sarcastic and emotionally unavailable, but when I peeped a little deeper in you there was an ocean of grief and longing in you. The grief of losing your best friend, Bo, your guilt for her death, the shame you felt for being its reason, it was all what made me feel more connected to you.

You weren’t just grieving the death of your best friend and mother; you were also grieving about the lost connection and the human touch that you starved yourself with. Though when people tried to be a bit closer you brushed them away so that they wouldn’t come too close. I understand the pain you felt, it is easier to laugh off, to cover it with your sarcasm and wit, but we both know how much it stings. We both have way too many similarities than I would like to admit, you have trust issues, so do I. You try to cover everything with your wit. I do it with a smile, you try to appease people way too much, I am a pathological people pleaser. You see, we are more alike, and I guess that’s why your story is so personal to me.

The thing that stayed with me the most about your story is your honesty, you unlike me knew your inhibitions way too well. You knew how it was sabotaging your life, you used to flirt with self-destruction like it was the handsome man on earth, and  at times your decisions often used to feel so frustrating. But still I just couldn’t stop rooting for you, because it is you who made me realise the pleasure of being imperfect, to make mistakes and stumble through life without having to justify it.

Then there was the priest, the hot priest whose name we still don’t know but the way you connected with him was just so raw and vulnerable. For the first time during the entire show, I saw you putting your guard down, for the first time you let someone in so closely and worst part he couldn’t be yours. For so long you wanted to be loved for who you were and finally when it happened God came in between. When he said “It’ll pass” it was probably the most gut-wrenching scene it ever had and your “I love you “left me with more devastation than it should have.

But you see, I don’t pity you, I feel you were rather brave for accepting it. Knowing that you love someone and them not being able to love you back is devastating and heartbreaking. But that’s what life is about, you don’t get most of the things you want, and you must accept it. In the end I just want to thank you, for being this complex, imperfect human being, for giving me the strength to be my flawed self and making me realise that life couldn’t be dealt with a rule book, you must make mistakes and try to learn from it. Even if at times you don’t see yourself moving forward you are still making so many small progresses.

Sincerely,

A fellow Imperfect Soul

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A quirky psychology student with a will to make the world a better and safer place🎀