women-and-alcohol

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ART CULTURE. ALL CULTURE. BASQUIAT. S A M O

The Confessional: Admissions of Love and...Love

The pacing of the episode was intense. I felt almost breathless by the end from the combination of the pace of the action and being emotionally fucking sucker punched throughout. I know many of you may have found the pace problematic, but I actually found a particular kind of beauty in it, whether it was intentional or not. 

The story moved fast. The action moved fast. The dialogue moved fast.
But the moment Dean opened up in that Confessional…time stopped.
It just stopped. You could feel every word, every emotion, every ounce of self-deprecation stemming from his own choices to deny himself the things that would have truly allowed him to live. Dean confessed to obsession with women, with food, with alcohol – to all of the things that fed his self-denial, that stated the thirst of the darkness within him. They were the things he turned to because all of the other things in his life that could actually lend him some semblance of happiness were too overwhelming to handle. Too overwhelming because he didn’t believe, because he isn’t worthy. He has never believed he deserves love or happiness or the kind of companionship he has been starving for his entire life. Dean is hungry because he’s been starving himself of love since he was four goddamned years old. 

Sitting in that Confessional, speaking to a servant of God, Dean opened up. He allowed himself to be exactly who he is, with all of his fear, and all of his doubt, and the full force of the immensity of his love.

The prayers are just the beginning to some serious soul-searching.

Dean confessed to believing in God, but he doesn’t have faith that God still believes in him.

Regardless, Dean still knows a thing or two about prayer. About praying to a being…the only being in his godforsaken world that might still believe in him.

Everything Dean said…everything that he admitted to. For the first time, I truly, truly believe that he allowed himself to recognize his feelings for Cas. And sure, he could have just been speaking in generalizations about feeling more and wanting more and I might be bat-shit crazy but I just can’t believe that. I can’t believe that because the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes…Dean knew exactly what it was he was talking about. He knew who he was talking about. There is more than women and food and booze because he has family, because he has been forgiven, even though he may never be able to forgive himself. Because he is loved. Because he loves…and he loves. There is a distinction. There is a distinction because he was talking about the people in his life, the feelings he denied himself…the feelings he had never even allowed himself to experience. And Dean loves his brother. He loves the memory of his mother and his father. Dean loves Bobby and he loves Charlie and he loves Kevin because they are his family, dead or alive. And they know. Whether or not Dean has ever said the words “I love you,” they know. It’s never been a secret. Never been something denied. Dean’s love for Sam is the entire basis of their story. It’s undeniable. But the feelings toward one particular family member…one family member who never quite fit into the category of brotherhood…that was deniable – because it was more, because it was foreign and fucking overwhelming because that was a definition of “love” that Dean has convinced himself does not exist. Not for him. Not ever.

With every fiber of my being I felt him finally recognizing and acknowledging the feelings he has had for Cas all of this time. Dean found himself in that Confessional. He found the true meaning of love. He found that greater purpose to focus on. Dean doesn’t want to die because he’s finally allowing himself a taste of life. He can’t let that go now. He would be a fool to. And he’s goddamned terrified that he’s going to die before he can do anything about it….before he can tell him. Before he can hold his cause in his arms and feel fucking everything.

The pacing of the episode mirrored Dean’s description of how he has always lived his life – pedal to the metal. But inside of the walls of the Confessional, Dean slowed down. He saw everything. He felt everything. And he’s scared and he’s lost. And fucked if he didn’t know that the second he stepped out of that booth, it would be zero to sixty in 0.6 seconds and that’s just not the way he wants to goddamned live anymore. But he has to. It’s his life. It’s his job. But it’s not his peace. He realized that he is not the job. He is more than just the job. He allowed himself to acknowledge that the job isn’t peace, but that the thought of something more - something draped in hope and faith and pure, unequivocal love….that is Dean’s peace. But he’s scared. He’s so goddamned scared.

There is more to the world, to life, than Gina. And by Gina I mean women, I mean booze, I mean denial trussed up in sex and decadence. And Dean knows it. And he’s terrified to feel something real, to believe in something real - to be something real. To be a person in this world, flawed and broken and forgiven and loved.

Prayer is a start. But Dean knows where his prayers have always led him. Calling out to a servant of God, calling out to love, to life, to faith in his ability to endure, to survive. To hope.

Dean’s prayers will lead him home.

I miss this so much I used to look so bloody bad ass!

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Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.
You claim to love her, inside and out, but the only time you call her beautiful is when it’s 3 in the morning and I’ve already turned you down.
—  girls tell each other everything, c.j.n.

This is my new favourite gif

(All credit goes to shit-and-more)