One bittersweet thing about my childhood was fandom isolation; I consumed fantasy books like a drug addict, and they were incredibly profound for me - but I was usually the only person reading them, and I rarely had anyone irl to talk about them with.
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nobody else will ever know the the grief i felt after finishing Brightly Burning by Mercedes Lackey
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at least the entire world eventually got hit by the Red Wedding
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Me with dinosaurs. And a few books and series
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this was me for basically everything i was interested in growing up. the internet was a game changer for bringing me to like-minded people, at least for some things.
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I don't have the vocabulary for how I felt, but quiet isolation is close enough. I still have my books - SciFi, Fantasy, Horror...
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Starting to feel like the plot of Brigsby Bear is somewhat autobiographical for you.
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