Breaking Dad: Why My Dad is Heisenberg Breaking Bad has been my insatiable obsession since I began watching it from

the beginning on Netflix. When Im not analyzing Breaking Bad with my sister I am watching interviews and reading the latest conspiracy theory. I even went as far as to order a Heisenberg shirt and make a Breaking Bad cookie cake (I know, its sad.) From Season 1 Episode 1 I have been addicted to the madness that is Breaking Bad. Its natural to relate to Walt and his need to provide for his family when he knows his time is limited. Early on, Walter White is one of the most personable characters I have ever seen on television. Ive been asked time and time again why I indulge so much time with Breaking Bad. It took watching the third to last episode, Ozymandius, of the final season for me to finally understand why. In order to understand my fixation you would have to know my dad. And to know my dad you would have to know about his drug addiction. Not only that, but his colossal ego. Within seconds of seeing Walter White I immediately saw similarities in him that my dad also possessed. He loved his family, was wickedly intelligent, and was always right. Even though my dad is not a scientist, he is a lawyer (which is basically the same since science is all about facts and law is all about making people believe things to be facts). The difference in Walt and my dad is that it took Walt a lot longer to master the art of deception. If you are familiar with Breaking Bad you are well aware Walt has evolved from Season 1 to Season 5, and not in a positive way. He has become ruthless, heartless, and merciless. He will say and do anything to protect what he has built. Even though my dad isnt dissolving children in barrels of acid, his ego has taken reign of his life. I knew that Walt had turned to the dark side but I was still relentlessly rooting for him. I was upset with Skyler and Marie and Hank and Jesse everyone else who was against Walt. I loved Walt. I saw the Walt that taught a high school chemistry class. I saw the Walter White that wanted to help his family. But what I failed to realize until the episode Ozymandias was that Walter White was dead. Walter White had died long ago and I was still holding hands with his corpse- I desperately didnt want to let go. I failed to realize Walter White was Heisenberg and Heisenberg alone.

I have failed, until now, to realize my dad is no longer the dad I once knew. He no longer has the same motives and priorities. They have changed. He no longer does everything for his family and no longer does what he once loved. And he will never be the same again. Much like Heisenbergs lung cancer my dad is 70 with lung complications (how much more ironic does it get?). He has been advised time and time again that if he continues down that path he will not live. Heisenberg and my father had many chances to make moral decisions. My ignorant hope was that Heisenberg (and my dad) would somehow find a way to make things right. But it finally registered to me that it isnt about making things right. There is no way to make things right. There is no way to take back actions, horrible tragic, actions, that have permanently devastated the ones you love. This is written for no one in particular. Not even necessarily for anyone to read. It is just a way for me to process why I am so exceedingly affected by Breaking Bad. I want to thank, from the bottom of my heart, Vince Gilligan. For writing and creating a show that could evoke this much emotion from so many people. For sculpting such an unforgettable story that doesnt go the way that it should. He named fans of Heisenberg enablers and said that he hates him thus far in the show. And he is right. I enabled Heisenberg just as I enabled my dad. And Im not longer doing it. So to speak, I picked up the kitchen knife and Skylerd my way out. I finally realize the truth and the concept of repercussions. I finally realize Heisenberg is no longer Walter White. I finally realize my dad is not the dad I knew. This all sounds dreadfully disheartening, and in part is. But what is even more miserable is grasping so tightly to something that no longer exists. So to whoever reads this: let go of things that no longer exist. Accept things for what they are because they will be what they are no matter what mask you place on it. Ill leave you with this: I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: "

My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away