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.
Do you ever look up from reading a book and get disoriented because you’re actually in your bedroom or class or somewhere that isn’t the story?
I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE OMG
It’s such a strange feeling too. Suddenly remembering that you exist.