The X-Files' long-awaited return came to an end last night—and, much like this season in general, it felt overstuffed and chaotic. The short version of the finale is below—

:/

—but UGGGGHHH, of course I've got a few more thoughts. Spoilers, obviously.

1) Just like last week's lousy episode, this was another installment written and directed by Chris Carter. Here's the thing: Chris Carter made the goddamn X-Files, and therefore should be pictured on America's currency and flag and given every award we have. And we should invent some for him! And parades! We should give him parades. But also? I wouldn't be bummed out if Chris Carter decided to never write or direct another X-Files. (And there will be more X-Files, given the finale's cliffhanger ending—and the strong ratings, and FOX making clear they want more.)

It's hardly a coincidence that the far-and-away best episode of this season—"Mulder & Scully Meet the Were-Monster"—is, in just about every way, the opposite of Carter's style. Carter always wants to go big, from plot (sinister worldwide conspiracies!), to spectacle (Scully morphing into an alien! For some reason!), to dialogue (TV hasn't had this much technobabble since that really weird episode of The Next Generation where Geordi made Worf go to the LaForge family reunion). But The X-Files is strongest when it goes small: when it focuses on Mulder and Scully, when its characters (and creatures) learn that searching for the unknown helps explain who we are. Everyone remembers "Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose"; no one remembers Mulder crawling around that massive CGI UFO in the first movie.

Carter's never content with smaller scale, though, and he always ends up tripping over all the different threads he lays out. If there's a single shot in "My Struggle II" that embodies all this, it's when Cancer Man whips off his Phantom of the Opera mask. Up until now, Cancer Man's been a great (and very sparingly used) part of this season, and his creepy, plasticine appearance had a lot to do with it. But instead of leaving well enough alone, Carter has actor William B. Davis dramatically remove the mask—revealing himself to look like a second-rate Red Skull cosplayer. For Carter, it's not enough for the Cancer Man to be a murderous, creepy-as-fuck mastermind—Carter wants to make sure we see and know everything, even when it doesn't make sense, and even when it sucks all the drama out of the scene.

2) Last week I vowed that we'd never, ever speak of Agent Einstein (Lauren Ambrose) and Agent Miller (Robbie Amell) again—and I meant it. But that was because I thought—like a trusting fool, LIKE A GODDAMN TRUSTING FOOL—that we'd never see them again. And we shouldn't have had to, right? From the get-go, they seemed like either a terrifically ill-advised attempt to recast the show (NOOOOOOOooooOooOOoO) or some cloying, half-assed characters who were shoehorned into last week's episode to be... non-comic relief? Or foils? Foils to characters that people actually like? But now we have to talk about them, because they're fucking back for some infuriating reason, and god, they're the worst—by turns obnoxious and bland, Miller and Einstein seem to exist only to remind everyone watching that they are not, in fact, watching Mulder and Scully. "My Struggle II" was all about a goddamn worldwide plague, yet Einstein and Miller somehow weren't the first people killed. This doesn't prove Scully's theory about alien DNA, but it does prove there is no such thing as justice.

3) Okay, right! Where was I? Worldwide plague! Alien DNA! CANCER MAN'S GAPING NOSE HOLES! Let's just remember, for one moment, that a mere seven days ago, this was happening:

And let's consider that this week—in addition to everything mentioned above—we've also got Jeff Winger ranting about chemtrails, an insane fight scene in which Mulder bounces around like he's Tony Jaa fighting everybody from The Raid, a 1,000 percent unasked-for cameo from Agent Reyes ("Never forget," she might as well be saying, "never forget that long ago, The X-Files was even worse than this"), and lines that range from "Aliens predicted all this! They saw it happening to themselves!" to "Hold on, Agent Einstein—you're talking to a scientist."

*head spins*

*vomits*

*gently dabs at corners of mouth with handkerchief, like a gentleman*

A six-episode run could've given Carter & Co. the chance to tell one streamlined X-Files story, or to have six loosely connected one-offs, or to do any number of other things to play with the current model of TV. Instead—embodied most strongly in "My Struggle II," but evidenced by this season as a whole—it feels like Carter & Co. tried to cram one of The X-Files' old 25-episode seasons into six hours. (It's worth remembering that the most interesting themes introduced in the premiere were quickly crowded offstage.) Looking back, it all fit about as poorly as you'd expect.

4) EXCEPT, of course, for Duchovny and Anderson, who handled this whole rambling, chaotic, and (sometimes for the best, sometimes for the worst) earnest season with grace, charm, skill, and humor. What anchored this season is what's always anchored this show: How likeable, watchable, smart, and sexy Anderson and Duchovny are. One only needs to look at Einstein and Miller to see how quickly The X-Files' blend of technobabble, sentiment, and paranoia turns to goddamn ash in other actors' mouths. So long as Anderson and Duchovny are the key parts of any future X-Files episodes, they're always going to be worth watching. Which I guess brings us to....

5) The future? (And if we have to fight it?) I mean, the fuck happens next? I don't mean with Mulder—of course Scully will find a way to cure him, she's Scully. I mean with the actual state of PLANET EARTH. When The X-Files comes back, it'll be taking place in a world that's been hit by a global pandemic. It'll be taking place in a world where the only known solution for said pandemic is injecting oneself with alien DNA. (That should go over great with the anti-vaxxers.) And it'll also be taking place in a world where hundreds, if not thousands, of people have witnessed a UFO.

This is the kind of big, catastrophic, world-changing stuff that happens to Earth a few times a season on Doctor Who—but a lighthearted space fantasy in which nobody ever worries too much about plot is a far cry from The X-Files, where plot—at least in Carter's episodes—is often the only thing anyone cares about. "My Struggle II" ends in a way that all but promises a radically different reality than the tangible, lo-fi world that, until now, The X-Files has taken place in.

Despite all my grumbling about the past few weeks' episodes, I'm curious to see where that goes. I love The X-Files, and goddammit, I can't even lie to myself for even a second by saying I won't be the first in line clapping like an idiot when it comes back—despite all my misgivings, and despite the fact there's a fair amount of morbidness in that aforementioned curiosity. (And yes, I'll certainly be reading the forthcoming YA novels starring Teen Mulder and Teen Scully, and that's a phrase I never thought I'd type.) One were-monster aside, this clunky season of The X-Files has been underwhelming and, occasionally, straight-up bad. But The X-Files has been underwhelming and bad before. It's also been fucking great before.

Back when all this began, I wrote, "Loving The X-Files is like any other serious relationship: It takes a lot of patience, a lot of compromise, and a lot of politely looking the other way during the shitty parts." So look: By the end of "My Struggle II," I was politely (or, as maybe evidenced by this post, not-so-politely) looking the other way. But I'll be the first to look back when The X-Files returns. Because it'll bounce back.

That's what I believe, anyway. Very possibly, this is an insane belief for one man to cling to—a belief without logic or reason, and a belief that could doom a man to long years of frustration and sadness. But hey, like I said last week: Mulder is my role model.