You'll never know about the roads you don't travel, I suppose, but that cuts both ways: All we ever know about are the ones where we do. And anybody who has been jerked out of their complacent patterns of self-destruction, whether by injury or sudden self-knowledge or death, has been given a second chance to become who they were meant to be. If you're intent on making this show "mindless garbage," I guess the obvious gay metaphor is enough: It always has been, for people like you. But Jessica and Tara, maybe even Sookie -- and, irksomely, now Jason -- are defined in a lot of ways by the fact that they were denied a childhood. But as anybody who has gone through this particular thing they are talking about in this scene can tell you, the next best thing to a healthy childhood is learning to live your adulthood with a little grace.
Jessica, tentative, orders a Tru Blood cocktail -- "two parts O-, one part B+" -- and Tara makes it for her, just as wary. She thinks about it for awhile before she says anything; this scene reminded me so much of when she met Hoyt, just her certainty that it's a conversation worth having and at the same time being very, very careful.
Jessica: "Hey. Are you okay?"
Tara: "Hmph. Trade you Makers."
Jessica: "Pam is ... not so bad. She'll probably let you feed off of a human, Bill made me drink nothing but Tru Blood forever..."
True enough. Tara has nothing to say to that, so she says nothing. She's already so grateful you can taste it.
Jessica: "Hey. I'm sorry this happened to you. If you didn't want it to."
She's so comfortable now, in her skin, in the limits and how to test them, you can forget where she came from. Locked in a car trunk after the sun went down; pulled out and murdered, screaming, under the harsh Magister lights. Dead before she lived. "I'm sorry this happened," Jessica says, "If you didn't want it to."
Jessica: "I know how awful, and scary, and lonely it can be... The hardest part is that nobody gets you. Like Pam, and Eric and Bill, they're all just so ... old. And then humans, even if they love you, or... I mean, if they try..."
When you surrender up your sight to see the new world, whether it's a religious conversion or a sexual revelation or this, born out of blood, it feels like dying. That's true; change feels like dying because it is. And there's a way in which the old world will never come back around, and you will always been out of step with its easy rhythms. And then, too, there's the rest of the world still has to mourn you, the idea, the future of you. To put their dreams for you back on the shelf without damaging them, so they can see you as you are and not through the fuzzy dream.