every time i start to feel cringe for being too deep in the hyperfixation i remember the intense depression i have waded through and have to remind myself that enjoyment is fleeting (so grab it with both hands), and life is for loving (so hold that love close), and if anyone thinks i’m cringe they must not be having a very good time (and i hope they can find a good time soon).
I just read This Is Not A Book About Benedict Cumberbatch by Tabitha Carvan, a sweet ode to loving/obsessing over whatever your heart desires...And Carvan has this moment where she describes feeling the need to hide or explain or laugh away her Cumberbatch calendar at her desk, and then looking over at her coworker with a shitton of football stuff splashed everywhere, this guy who never shuts up about his fantasy league, and he never apologizes and never explains about his fandom and she realizes she doesn't need to either:
“something trivial...can have unexpected, maybe profound, consequences, not in spite of being trivial but because it is. Because it’s fun, because it doesn’t matter, because it’s purely for you, because it feels stupidly good. Because the joy of it expands.”
