I’m going to get right out ahead of this to say I know. I know these are entitled, dislikable characters with no growth or development. I know that they’d be the worst people in the bar, the colleagues you’d avoid making eye contact with, the students you’d roll your eyes at when they raised their hand to answer a question. I know the mental illness and denial running rampant throughout the narrative are problematic, and if you’re going to take away a moral from this story, it should be the opposite of the one it gives.

But I don’t care.

I’m here for the rich leftist lesbian who is all talk and has too many opinions. I’m here for the depressed actor who gets off on being psychologically submissive to the women in his life. I’m here for the broke, unemployed college student with an aloof, mysterious outer shell and an inner vortex of insecurity, denial, and self-harm. I’m here for the weird medical fiction twist so out of left field that it felt like a different story was merging with this one. I’m here for the incestuous relationships, the inappropriate age gaps, the rambling emails, the stark conversations, and the lack of punctuation.