I've mentioned About a Boy before. It was my first exposure to Nick Hornby, and it was also the first book I ever read within a 24-hour period, thanks to a summer by myself in my college apartment.
In the novel, one of Hornby's
characters talked about why he could never commit suicide -- there was always at
least one thing he was looking forward to. The example I remember given was the excitement over what would happen in the next episode of NYPD Blue.
Now Breaking Bad is over. I loved it, I looked forward to it every Sunday night for years, and it's over.
And you could say that's one less reason to live, but it's not. It's such a good feeling to arrive at the end, and it's life-affirming when art affects you like this. And it's exciting to know that one day there could be another great show or movie or album that you love this much.