I’m aware that there are many students at Redwood going through withdrawal at this time. The series finale of Lost has caused uproar among fans distraught over the end of their favorite show, and angry over questions that remain unanswered.

Illustration by Adrian Rowland

Lost fans deserve my empathy, as I too have fallen victim to a cultural phenomenon, and therefore know the path to getting through this type of addiction.

Ever since I saw my brother reading Harry Potter in the second grade, I thought it was the cool thing to do. But after years of struggling with my addiction, I have finally come to the realization that Harry Potter isn’t the only book out there, and no matter how hard I try to prolong the joy it brought me, I will only be disappointed.

When I first started reading Harry Potter, I had never known such joy. For hours at a time I could disappear into a world ungoverned by muggle rules such as gravity and rationality. Instead, a world of spell-casting and flying broomsticks enthralled my mind. I even went so far as to stay up until midnight on my eleventh birthday, hoping that Hagrid would break down my door and bring me my very own Hogwarts letter.

Alas, there was no letter. It was the first in a series of disappointments Harry Potter brought to me, and I should have realized then what I know now—magic isn’t real.

Yet I was naïve. Stupid. I remained a fanatic until the release of the seventh book, which caused me to go into a withdrawal once I finished it.

I suddenly had no reprieve from the harsh reality of the real world. There was nowhere else to turn.

So I did what any addict would, I relapsed. I began rereading from the beginning, even spending weekends locked in my room trying to find one more clue I had previously overlooked, thus making my time worthwhile. I may have gone on reading Harry Potter until the day I died, had something not weaned me off my addiction.

Last summer I was heading home from a basketball tournament, eager to finish the fourth book for my 24th time, when I saw my brother watching a show called Lost. I decided to sit down and watch an episode, thinking Harry Potter could wait.

But then I started to experience it again, the same joy and exhilaration I first felt after reading Harry Potter for the first time. I started watching Lost from the first season, and within weeks I was weaning one addiction by using small doses of another.

Yet this too was destined for disaster. Sure, I had something to look forward to every Tuesday night, but I should have known that it wasn’t sustainable. So, when the series finale came and passed, I was completely blindsided by the withdrawal I experienced.

Suddenly, all my old anxieties came rushing back. I missed Harry, Hermione and Ron, except this time my sadness was compounded by the fact that I didn’t have Jack, Kate and Sawyer to comfort me.

The day after the finale I began re-reading Harry Potter and re-watching the first season of Lost, but it was to no avail. I knew the plot lines too well, and I just couldn’t recreate the joy I had once experienced.

But therein lay the solution to my addiction of Harry Potter. By using Lost as a supplemental obsession, I was able to realize that other books and other obsessions existed. Heck, I even gave Twilight a read to see what all the fuss was about (don’t worry guys, it actually does suck).

So, Lost fans, there is hope for you. I suggest starting off with watching another popular television show in-between episodes of Lost, and carefully weaning yourself over a period of time. Trust me, there are millions of great addictions out there, you should not waste your time reliving just one.