You Season 5 star Penn Badgley reveals the meaning of Joe’s final words from the series

In the final moments of You Season 5, Joe Goldberg's voice cuts through the silence:

"Maybe the problem isn't me. Maybe it's you."

A sentence so simple, yet so loaded with meaning and danger. Joe Goldberg’s story ended with a whisper, not a scream.

Penn Badgley later called Joe’s final words both a "cop out" and "frustratingly true." And is he wrong? I really don't think so, and I invite you to analyze that with me here.

Disclaimer: The following analysis of Joe's final words in You is an interpretive exploration based on Penn Badgley’s comments. It does not aim to speak for the actor, but rather to dive into the uncomfortable truths his words expose, not just about Joe Goldberg but about us.

Those words are way more than the last gasp of a fictional sociopath. They brutally reflect something far more real: our terrifying ability to shift blame, to rationalize harm, and to see ourselves as victims when we are not.

This is not just about a fictional character. It is about all the ways we, as a society, are willing to believe that if someone suffers, they must have deserved it. That maybe they "asked for it." That maybe they "could have done something differently." That maybe they had true choices to make.

The "maybe" Joe throws into the void is not a question: it's a loaded verdict, and it echoes far beyond the screen.

You Season 5 ending explained: A brutal mirror to society

When You premiered back in 2018, I thought it could work as a cautionary tale. I started watching a story about obsession, manipulation, and the slow horror of realizing someone you trust can be your worst nightmare. However, even back then, something darker emerged, and it did not come from the screen only,even if the episodes made me feel more and more uncomfortable as the time went by. But no, this something darker came from the audience itself.

It was impossible to ignore the comments online. People blaming the victims. People saying that the girls Joe stalked, gaslighted, and murdered somehow "deserved it" and/or "had it coming" for being careless, naive, or simply inconvenient. It was a chilling realization, one that made it unbearable for me to keep watching You.

I dropped the series after the first season because I could not stand to see it happening repeatedly. And not only in fiction. Worse was seeing many people validating Joe's actions in the comment sections of websites. It marked me so deeply that, even now, if I close my eyes, I can still catch glimpses of scenes I watched back in 2018. And things I read abut them. That is how much it stayed with me. Both the series and the comments. Some things we can never unsee. They wil haunt us forever.

Fast-forward to now and that is why Joe’s ending hits so hard. His final words are not just a "cop out." They are a mirror held up to every excuse, every justification, every minor cruelty that society teaches us to accept. Joe says it to justify himself, of course, but then again: Is he wrong? I think the real horror is how many people think exactly the same way without ever daring to say it out loud.

It's not just fiction. It's a reflection. And it hurts because it's real.

The danger of 'maybe'

There is a reason why Joe’s last words sound almost gentle. "Maybe" gives him cover. "Maybe" blurs responsibility. "Maybe" invites doubt where there should be none. It's a word that offers comfort to the aggressor and confusion to the audience.

In the real world, "maybe" is often used to undermine victims, to cast a shadow over their experiences, to suggest that the harm they suffered is somehow debatable. It's a tool that shifts the burden of proof onto the wounded instead of holding the wrongdoer accountable. And that is what makes Joe’s final line so chilling. It is not just his delusion speaking but reflection of a much bigger, systemic flaw one that allows abusers to question reality itself, hiding cruelty behind a thin veil of uncertainty.

Joe’s story may have ended in fiction, but the "maybe" he leaves behind keeps living outside the screen. It creeps into how we judge, how we rationalize, how we find excuses.

The illusion of innocence

Joe Goldberg's seeming normalcy is among his most unsettling traits. He wears no (visible) mask and he does not (exactly) lurk in the shadows. He smiles, he loves, and he grieves. Superficially, he is just another individual searching for purpose, relationship, and belonging. That delusion is exactly what makes him so dangerous.

Joe's final words, "Maybe the problem isn't me. Maybe it's you," tap directly into this facade. They allow him, and by extension people like him, to maintain a sense of righteousness and believe their actions are justified because they never see themselves as the villain. In Joe's mind, he is not a predator; he's a misunderstood lover, a protector, a man driven by passion.

This illusion of innocence is not unique to him and it mirrors a wider phenomenon where individuals and institutions hide systemic harm behind the mask of good intentions. This is why so many people still insist on defending abusers by saying, "He was a good man," or "She meant well." It makes space for harm to flourish in plain sight, disguised as care.

Joe Goldberg is a monster who believes he is merciful. That belief, that refusal to acknowledge harm, is what makes real-world monsters so hard to recognize and even harder to stop.

Beyond fiction: The real cost of absolution

Joe Goldberg's story may be fictional, but the damage his mindset mirrors is painfully real. His final words echo the same logic that society often applies to the most vulnerable, and we see it starkly exposed in series like Adolescence on Netflix.

Adolescence shows how young people are often punished not for crimes, but for growing up in a world stacked against them. Their struggles are magnified, and their mistakes are treated as moral failures. Instead of receiving guidance or protection, they are pushed into systems that judge and discard them.

Joe’s mentality, "Maybe the problem isn't me. Maybe it's you," reflects that same cruelty. It is the voice of a world that looks at broken teenagers (and even grown-ups) and blames them for their own suffering. It is the voice that asks, "What did you do wrong?" instead of questioning, "How did we fail you?" That voice that readily judges instead of not even offering moral compass. Sometimes, we should just listen.

In You, Joe justifies his violence by casting doubt on his victims' worth. In reality, society does the same to countless people, especially those who needed help the most and instead were made into scapegoats.

The cost of absolution is not just personal. It leaves scars that entire generations carry forward.

The silent legacy of blame

The fact that You reached a fifth season while a series like Adolescence emerges to expose real-world cruelty is not a coincidence. It is a statement. It shows that stories about blame, delusion, and systemic failure resonate because they reflect something fundamentally broken in us.

Joe Goldberg's journey, ending with a chilling absolution of himself, mirrors the same societal patterns that Adolescence lays bare. In both fiction and real life, we watch as harm is rationalized, victims are blamed, and cruelty is disguised as care. And we keep watching, sometimes because we are horrified, sometimes because, deep down, we recognize the truth.

I stopped watching You after the (horrifying) ending of Season 1. What about you? A lot of people did not and here we are, seven years later, with the fifth and final season.

You was popular not just because of its thriller elements or twisted romance. It endured because it tapped into the uncomfortable recognition of how easily society lets people like Joe exist, excused by charm, masked by illusions, protected by our collective willingness to look away.

It also reminds me of the very first episode of Black Mirror. Have you watched it? If not, I invite you to.

With the conclusion of You, this (dark) mirror becomes impossible to ignore. The question no longer is if Joe Goldberg is the problem. The question is whether we are finally ready to confront why he feels so familiar.