Good Night, Raggedy Man: A Love Letter to the Eleventh Doctor

"I'll be a story in your head. But that's okay. We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh? Because it was, you know, the best."

Dear Doctor,

They say you never forget your first Doctor.

I will say, you were not quite the first for me. The first Doctor I watched was the Ninth. But you were the Doctor when I became a Whovian. So, not only is this my first Christmas special, but this is my first regeneration as well.

Though this may be the first time I actually
admit it, the answer is, and always will be yes.

You know by now that I have mixed feelings about you. I hope it counts for something that a really, really do want  to like you. But I think Ten will always be my Doctor.

I began watching the show on a medical leave from college in February of this year. I am a Theatre Arts major and a lot of the other students in the program love it. I didn't quite fit in with them, and so I began watching it as something to be able to talk with them about and understand the references.

But, as you can tell, it became more. So much more.


Since my second or third year of high school, I've known I was a relatively decent writer compared to my peers. (Quite franklyI thought that spoke more about my peers than myself.) Starting this blog proved me wrong. Once it picked up momentum, it never really stopped. It evolved in a way I could not imagine.

And you carried the show while all this was happening.

For me, you only became the Doctor in late February or March, so I am still attached to your previous face. It's strange, how we attach to faces.

Your song is ending now, too. But, as Ood Sigma said, the story never ends.

And that is so true. Just over a month ago, we all celebrated fifty years of Doctor Who. And we, as a community, have never been stronger. I would attribute most of that to the internet, allowing millions of Whovians to connect everyday. I believe there have been studies that prove that talking about things (and people too!) is conducive to creating the bonds that we call love. Twitter. Facebook. Tumblr. All crawling with Whovians, if your know where to look. I believe the epic of your story will only perish when the human race does so as well. It will go to the end of the Earth--and perhaps beyond.

Here's the gist of what I'm trying to say. Bad Wolf said it best:

You know the sound the TARDIS makes? That wheezing groaning? That sound brings hope where ever it goes. To anyone who hears it, Doctor. Anyone. However lost.

There has been no line in all of Doctor Who with more veracity than that. That wheezing, groaning used to invoke such a response in me that I set it as the text tone on my phone to desensitize myself it it (not that it really worked, of course).

Before I end this letter, I'd like to share my most fond memory of you with you. This summer, I babysat my two-year-old cousin, Max, for two consecutive weeks. On the Tuesday or Wednesday of the second week, I popped on "The Beast Below," as we had just watched Treasure Planet and the Orcus galacticus, naturally, reminded me of the Star Whale. Max, curious as ever, asked what exactly a Star Whale is. And, as that episode is pretty child-friendly (compared to a lot of the other stories), I didn't think it could do any harm (and as far as I know, it has not). He and I watched it. And he loved it. I wonder when his mother (my aunt) will Google "star whale" and figure out what happened.

So, Doctor. The Eleventh Doctor. Matt Smith. Sir Doctor of Tardis. The Oncoming Storm. The Drunk Giraffe. And, in a way, my Doctor. You are so loved. And by no one in the exact same way as me.

Goodbye, Raggedy Man.

The Forever and Always Yours Ley Wynn

PS. It's not quite goodbye, you know--same software, different casing.

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