I don’t watch Netflix. Some may try to persuade me to subscribe, but I learned the hard way that Netflix wasn’t a worthy investment for me. I quit two years ago, and I don't plan on changing my mind about it.

I remember the day that I subscribed to Netflix — it was during the first week of my second semester of college. I remember what pulled me in, what prompted me to think that the eight dollars —ninety-six dollars a year — that I spent every month could be a worthy investment. I subscribed to Netflix because a television show that I never finished watching during my adolescence was completely restored on Netflix.

This show was called "Charmed," and it was a show that I watched with my mom every week. We were both enchanted by the personalities of the female protagonists that promoted feminist beliefs. This show held magic, folklore, and mythology that always enticed people to see the world through a lens of mystery and wonder. We never believed in the magic and monsters that the television show featured, but the show did what it was called to do: it charmed us. I missed several episodes, and I never watched the last season. Yet because that television show was an activity that I shared with my mom, it always held an elusive pull on me for its influence on my childhood memories. I always wondered how the story ended. This television show was like a loose end on my adolescence that I needed to tie up.

So, I watched the entire television from its pilot episode to its finale. Watching this show became a ritual for me; I felt like I needed to complete each season within one month. At first, I limited myself to one episode every other day, but then Spring Break broke my consistent pattern and I binged on two full seasons within a week. I could have done so much more with that week, but I was hooked. Episodes were lined up so conveniently, and I sunk into the comfiest of chairs I could find to finish this task. It was a “hook, line, and sinker” situation.

When I finally finished all of the seasons, I emerged from what felt like a Netflix coma with a feeling of triumph. From that point on, I never needed to reminisce and wonder how the story ended. Now I knew. I knew how the characters who inspired me for so long achieved their final peace of mind with the finale. It felt like I had completed a project, like a challenge I set up for myself.

But, this feeling of triumph was an isolated feeling; there was no one else who could share this moment with me. I watched Netflix on my own time, and it wasn’t an activity I shared with others. Although I cannot blame Netflix for isolating me, it felt like it trapped me into isolating myself. Watching these protagonists grow through facing their fears and meeting challenges made me feel like I had grown along with them, but I cognitively know that this isn’t possible.

I watched a character live a life while I passively observed both it and my own.

I took a break from Netflix for awhile, and I lived my life much more actively. Then, it happened again. I was pulled into another television show that made me feel like I was a part of a friend group that I wasn’t actually a part of. Once I started watching, I didn’t want to stop because I wanted to feel a sense of completion.

I broke off from Netflix again, but then I acted in the worst way that I could have acted: I started comparing my real-life interactions with those I saw on Netflix. The interactions on Netflix were quick-witted and enticing, which makes sense because they were well-written by professional writers who know how to develop plot lines and story arcs. However, I became more engrossed with what professional writers could present to me through Netflix than I was with my own reality. My reality didn’t consist of perfectly delivered lines and story arcs. The sense of completion I gained from the organization of the seasons on Netflix were much more enthralling than the chaotic, open-ended, and obscure interactions that were my reality.

With television, stories can be black and white. Moral choices can be black and white. Television itself used to be black and white. The reality, however, isn’t always the black and white, right and wrong, and truth and myth that we want it to be. Reality means that everything is constantly evolving, but television is purposefully planned to evolve and is especially made to give people like me a sense of completion.

Yet the best lesson that I gained from watching Netflix besides understanding that a deeper meaning of completion is much better for me than well-defined story arcs, was the fact that life can be the manifestation of all of my goals and ideals. Netflix can open the door to new alternate universes of stories and characters, but what should be the most important to me should be manifesting what I want out of my own reality instead of living vicariously through fiction.

I’m never going to subscribe to Netflix ever again, but that’s because it’s not a good hobby for me. For the same reason that we read novels, we also watch television because it gives us a means to empathize with others. Netflix made me feel like a zombie in reality. I never want to feel like the Walking Dead ever again, but I did hear that this show is also on Netflix. It feels like a Net that wants to trap me.