I’m just going to put this out there from the start: I haven’t recovered from the episode yet, so writing this has been difficult, much moreso than usual. My thoughts aren’t totally settled. That episode could induce post-traumatic stress, yo! How sad is it that I really wish I wasn’t single right now just so I could have someone to hold me after these epic, soul-crushing, dream-shattering, gut-wrenching, awe-inspiring final episodes? I’m kind of not okay still.
This episode was the most exquisite hour ever spent on a plummeting descent into the abyss of Hell. I was so calm after the end of “To’hajiilee,” but after “Ozymandias,” I couldn’t sleep again, all wired up and amped, wanting to stress eat or curl into the fetal position and feeling somewhat traumatized by what I’d just watched, but in the best possible way. With Breaking Bad, you get tortured in such a wonderful way you wouldn’t give it up for anything. That’s sure something. With every episode, even as it all crashes and burns, I’m even more glad that they’re taking this story to its awful conclusion.
No one on this show was having an A1 Day, except, perhaps, the writer (literally). What each character dreaded most came to pass. They pleaded to no avail, crumpled, collapsed, fell to their knees. Everybody cried. Just about everyone got dealt a fate worse than death, except of course, the one who actually got to die, and with some dignity. Yeah, Hank might be the best off out of almost anyone.