(Please note: These diaristic recaps of the final eight episodes of AMC’s Breaking Bad are written from the point of view of Walter “Flynn” White Jr., the son of Walter and Skyler White. Given this conceit, certain liberties will be taken with Flynn’s characterization, story lines, and awareness of events. Barring the flash forwards, which won’t be included and would amount to little more than pure, stupid speculation, as many scenes as possible will be chronicled in these recaps, albeit tangentially, through the eyes of Flynn.)
Breaking Bad Season 5 Episode 15: “Granite State”
Excerpted from The Diary of Flynn White
Dear Diary,
Have you ever been so angry that you could slap an overhead lamp? Because I am that angry. Also that confused. Also that sad. I wish I was a professional feeling inventor and could invent a new feeling called angry/confused/sad. It’d make life a lot easier, since I’m going to be feeling that way for probably the entire rest of my whole life. Grr/:(/huh. Don’t know how dad could do this to our family. To me or to mom or to Holly (my little sister). Or to Uncle Hank who he murdered. Or Uncle Hank’s partner, who he also murdered, whatever his name is. I mean was. Too angry/confused/sad to think of his name. Sorry. Anyway, Obama repossessed the car wash and our house and all my game consoles and recording equipment I’d bought to start the podcast for savewalterwhite.com. Except that that website doesn’t exist anymore. I wrote GoDaddy a letter to please take it down, although I considered changing the domain to fuckwalterwhite.com. I didn’t though. I’ve already got a direct RSS feed for fuckwalterwhite.com plugged right into my brain. What’s the point? Wish I had an overhead lamp to slap. Not sure why. Not sure about anything anymore.
Mood: Angry/Confused/Sad
Song: A Lot of Joy Division
Dear Diary,
The State Prosecutors questioned mom today. They think she knows where dad is. LIKE SHE WOULD EVER IN A MILLION YEARS WANT TO. They’re so DUMB. I can’t believe they are actually 100% serial about this. After all mom has been through with my evil meth murderer drug kingpin heartless sociopath dad, they have the cajones to interrogate her. There’s nothing I can do though. Feel so helpless. Should I start stopquestioningmymomaboutwheremydadis.com? IDK. That title needs some work. For sure. But also for sure I’m totes too sad to work on a website right now. Plus she doesn’t know where dad is. Holly (my little sister) doesn’t know where dad is. I don’t know where dad is. No one knows where dad is. Although I know where I HOPE my dad is. Which is the roof of the tallest building in Albuquerque, where he is throwing himself off (of the roof). Or dead. I really hope dead.
Mood: Leave My Mom Alone.
Song: A Lot of Joy Division
Dear Diary,
Had a dream about dad last night. Not that I wanted to. Not that I would ever want to ever. In my dream, he was all alone in a tiny cabin in the snowy woods with nothing but his terminal cancer and two copies of Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium to keep him company. So this was a good dream. Except that’s more than my dad deserves. My dad deserves to be all alone in a super tiny cabin in the very snowy woods with two terminal cancers and NO Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium. I know I shouldn’t get so worked up about a stupid dream, but I can’t help it. Everyone treats me weird at school, like I’m different or something. Even Louis is acting weird around me. He un-followed me on Twitter. He thinks because I follow so many NBA players on Twitter I wouldn’t notice. He was wrong. I noticed. I won’t say anything though. He’s the closest thing to a friend I have left. Sometimes I just wish I could just climb into an emptied-out cement mixer and get away from it all. But you and I both know that’s impossible.
Mood: So Lonely
Song: A Lot of Joy Division
Dear Diary,
Dad called me at school today. That asshole. Why is he still alive? He said he wanted to send me drug money in the mail. LIKE I WOULD EVER IN A MILLION YEARS WANT THAT. Why is he still alive? If there is any justice in this world he’ll die and me and Mom and Holly (my little sister) can forget he ever existed. Although I guess Holly won’t know he ever existed so she won’t have to forget. UGH. WHY IS HE STILL ALIVE? I should have told him to shove his drug money up his butt, but I didn’t think of it until after the call. I was that upset. (Why is he still alive?) If he ever calls back, which I hope he doesn’t, that’s what I’m going to tell him. Take your drug money, and SHOVE IT UP YOUR BUTT. AND DIE. SO I DON’T HAVE TO ASK WHY ARE YOU STILL ALIVE ANYMORE. BYE.
Mood: WHY IS HE STILL ALIVE
Song: A Lot of Joy Division
Dear Diary,
Sorry if I’ve been down in my past few entries. I’m still, as my ten therapists say, “processing.” From now on, I’m going to focus on the positives in my life. Going to take things one step at a time. Going to hope. Going to be strong for Holly (my little sister) and Mom. They need me. And I need me. I need to get back to the old, happy me. I know I will. Slowly but surely. I’m going to do something nice for me today. I’m going to buy that pair of camo pants from Rocawear I’ve been wanting forever. It’s basically all the money I have left from the car wash. But it’ll make me feel good. That’s what I need right now. That, and for dad never to come back and die. Just those two things. Is that so much to ask? Until next week.
Love always,
Flynn
baby pictures of famous dictators 