Directors and screenwriters have always had this uncanny ability to craft beautiful relationships between two women. They take two high-spirited bombshells and collide them together in a romance so passionate that we shed actual tears when they appear on-screen. Social media explodes with praise— fan fiction, fan art, even fan-made videos appear in honor of another televised sapphic success.

And then, in the most unnecessarily gruesome fashion, these very same directors and screenwriters break our hearts in just minutes. How do they do that, you might ask?

They kill us off. Every. Damn. Time. Whether it's a breakup or an actual death, these two girls seldom end up together in a happy, healthy relationship.

Don't believe me?

Clarke and Lexa in "The 100" were formally together for just a few episodes before —WHAM— Lexa dies slowly and painfully from a bullet wound. Callie and Arizona in "Grey's Anatomy" got married (which was great) only to sever ties in a bitter divorce later on (which was definitely not great). Hell, even "The L Word" disappointed us all when they killed off Dana in the first half of the third season. I mean, seriously, not even a show geared towards queer women could spare us the slightest bit of heartache.

So tell me, Hollywood, when will queer women be represented in functional, healthy relationships in film and on TV?

The issue with people in the film industry is that the majority of them think they can make our girls kiss once or twice and satisfy us and—bonus— do so without peeving their straight viewers.

But we're not all about sex. We have depth. We crave romance and emotional intimacy just as two heterosexual lovers do. So why is most of our screen time dedicated to showing make-out sessions and one-night stands? There is such an indescribable vibrancy that defines love between two women that these corporate bigwigs are continually failing to grasp.

And no, "Blue is the Warmest Color" doesn't count. While the cinematography is stunning and the acting is decent, the storyline leaves a LOT to be desired. Ask anyone who's seen that film about what they remember from it and I can guarantee you that their first recollection will be that graphic sex scene at around the halfway mark.

My theory is that filmmakers are generally under the impression that it's more groundbreaking to feature a queer male than it is to feature a queer female.

And maybe that's because men are limited in their sexual expression by society's narrow definition of masculinity. A gay man is seen to be heroic because his coming out means he's rebelling against gender standards (because apparently, it's feminine to be attracted to men…*rolls eyes*). Yet with a gay woman telling the world about her identity, the response is more, "yeah, cool, she came out…and?"

But it's every bit as stressful and terrifying and courageous to come out as a queer woman. Just because we aren't accused of being 'girly' in a malicious way doesn't mean we don't meet other challenges in our coming-out process. Our families still react negatively, our friends still accuse us of being in love with them…it's all the same stuff, just different genders.

So to make a longwinded rant short, there needs to be more representation of queer women in film and television. Yes, I do understand that there have been great strides made (by The CW especially, after the backlash they received from Lexa's death) in this movement. "Choni," the pairing of Cheryl and Toni from The CW's "Riverdale" is an excellent example of this.

But until the girls who like girls get their "Love, Simon," we will not have been portrayed with the honesty and beauty that we deserve.