The Early Blurb 5

Good morning!

Yes, I have changed the title, yes it is a pun, leave me alone. The Early Blurb does, in fact, get the worm.

This morning I am unfortunately thinking about feelings. They are stupid and I hate them, and I also love them and they are so very beautiful. Feelings and I have a very complicated relationship. A will-they-won't-they of insurmountable bigness. I feel a lot, all the time, and sometimes I am at the will of it. Other times I tie up feelings with a rag gag and shove it in a dark corner. It merely depends on if I have eaten, slept, or sometimes nothing will change the outcome of me bitterly sobbing over the death of my favorite fictional character.

All of this to say, I love and care *way too much*. Like, it's an actual problem. I've always damned my bleeding heart, getting me into MANY a situationship, but it's the same with everything. I don't just love people with every single atom in my body, I love fictional characters the same way. Sometimes even more so depending on the character. And it hurts my soul sometimes. There are benefits, of course. Seeing the Arthur Morgan poster on my wall, or the signed Astarion print, or the picture I have with Alex Kingston (River Song), it fills me with such a warm feeling.

But once reality begins to set in, that they are in fact, not real, and cannot feel the same way I do...we all know that it's a fucking sucker punch. 

My love of fiction goes all the way back to when I was very very little. Though, not in the same exact vein I mentioned earlier. I was a very lonely kid, whether it was because I was actually autistic or had absolutely no modern child relevant interests, we may never know, but because of that I had plenty of imaginary friends. I played pretend by myself all the time. The earliest I can recall was when me and Ringo, (yes from the Beatles, I did not know they were real I was 4), were best friends and I became the fifth Beatle. 

I'd do stuff like that all the time. But it wasn't until I was six that it got to the heights it is now.

My family and I had gone over to my mom's best friends house. He very famously would...sail the seven seas for media that he couldn't find in our hometown. And usually it would be boring grown up stuff, so I'd either be playing the Sims 2 or play with toys while they watched a movie. But one random day in 2011, he put on this very weird show. It starts playing, and I see this man in a bowtie, running around with a baby. And I'm like wait, what is this. Why is that tall man protecting that baby.

And for the first time ever, I was absolutely glued to the screen. This man, he was magical. He was just trying to save a man and his baby, and I had to see the next episode. I begged my uncle to put more on, and so he started us from the beginning of Matt Smiths Doctor Who run. As I watched, I saw Amelia Pond, a girl my age, get saved by this mad man in a blue box.

And I was hooked. Everything was about The Doctor, always. Still is, too, As I write this, his sonic is beside me, his pop figure is in front of me, and his action figure is hanging out with obi wan kenobi and wolverine.

I don't think words could ever fully express how The Doctor saved my life, over and over again, and some day I might go into more detail about it. But for now, all that can really be said, is he made that lonely little girl just a little less alone.