He Couldn’t Forgive Himself, So He Let Go of Everything

By Trinity Barnette

It’s been weeks since I finished Dexter for the first time. And I’m still pissed off.

Not because the show was bad—because it was brilliant. Dark, bold, layered, and disturbing in the way that good storytelling should be. But the ending? The exile? The self-destruction? The voluntary loneliness? That wasn’t just sad—it was the most tragic choice Dexter ever made.

Because here’s what I believe, with my whole chest:

Dexter didn’t disappear to protect the people he loved. He disappeared because he couldn’t forgive himself.

He Was Never a Monster to Her

Hannah was it for him. Not Rita. Not Lila. Not Lumen. Hannah.

She was flawed, dangerous, and complicated—just like him. But she understood him. She accepted the darkness without flinching, without trying to fix or save him. She didn’t want him to stop being who he was—she just wanted to build a life with the version of him that chose love.

And he did. For the first time, Dexter chose love back.

He let himself imagine a future. He let himself soften. That urge to kill—the one that had ruled his every waking moment—quieted in her presence. Because he wasn’t chasing control anymore. He was chasing peace.

Then Deb Died

And everything cracked.

Deb’s death wasn’t just a loss. It was confirmation. Confirmation that Dexter ruins everything he touches. That the people he loves always pay the price. That even when he tries to do the right thing, blood follows.

So he did what people like him do—he punished himself.

He faked his death. Abandoned Hannah. Left his son. Disappeared into a life of cold, mechanical survival. Not because he was hiding—but because he believed that any version of joy, love, or redemption was no longer meant for him.

Exile Was a Death Sentence

The most heartbreaking part of Dexter’s ending isn’t that he didn’t get caught. It’s that he chose to be alone.

He could’ve left with Hannah. He could’ve given Harrison a fresh start. He could’ve tried.

But when someone believes they’re undeserving of happiness, they will destroy every good thing that comes their way. Not out of cruelty—but out of guilt. Out of shame. Out of the belief that love is a reward, not a right.

Dexter didn’t believe he deserved a second chance.

So he gave himself a punishment instead.

He Let Go of Everything—Because He Couldn’t Let Go of Guilt

That’s what makes the ending stick with me weeks later. That’s what makes it hurt.

Because for the first time in his life, Dexter had everything he needed to become something more than a monster. And in the end, he chose to believe that the monster was all he ever was.

He didn’t die.

But he made sure the version of himself who felt love… did.