I am a Bad Adult

I love my favorite fictional characters as much as I love real people.

Maybe even more than real people, because real people have real limitations, real flaws, real time constraints, etc., and fictional people don't. Fictional people are always there for me. I can relive all the best moments anytime I want. There's no past, since anything I've read or watched before can be re-experienced.

They aren't great role models. Their storylines don't necessarily impart meaningful messages. They don't come from high-brow literature or classic film.

In fact, I am starting to realize that I will never stop loving my favorite characters, and even if I could force myself to stop, I wouldn't. It's not that I like these characters. I don't enjoy them when I'm reading or watching and engaged in that story and then forget them and move on. No, no. I LOVE these characters. I love in that stupid, giddy fucked-up brain chemistry kind of love.

And I'm a dork in my love. I favor things that remind me of my favorite characters: scents and colors and plants associated with them. Just seeing their name in print makes me grin. I'll struggle through the worst fanfiction or doujinshi just to be rewarded with a few hints of them, a few lines. (Hell, I'll even read or watch stuff that doesn't even have them in it, just closely related characters who might mention them.)

I still feel vaguely ashamed of this even as I make this public post. This is probably my biggest embarrassment, actually.

I can talk about sex and porn without batting an eyelash. I can dissect as much of my own emotional and psychological state as one is capable of upon one's self. I have no qualms talking religion or politics. I admit to liking furry art.

But man, not fangirling. I can't. I cannot do it around other people.