I fucking hate it when you’re in such a fantastically giddy mood and then you see one simple little thing that makes you think, “oh” and then you just get this empty feeling in your chest and you get nauseous and the world just crumbles and you want to just lay under a blanket and close your eyes and fall asleep and never wake up.
If anyone ever tells you that:
- The books you read are not “real books”
- The music you listen to is not “real music”
- The games you play are not “real games”
- The art you like is not “real art”
- The clothes you wear are not “proper clothes”
- The comics you read are not “real comics”
It’s perfectly okay to write them off as a petty, joyless asshole and continue enjoying the things you like.