I am coming to a point of realization/rationalization with myself. As someone who proclaims the desire to write and stuff, I am wondering a lot about the world. I have seen an overwhelming amount of people who want a fictionalized relationship (including myself). Something about men written by women and its inverse. People proclaiming that they will never be satisfied unless they end up with some sort of fictional character. It seems that we have scared ourselves into a delusional state. There’s a bit of delusion that comes with consuming fiction (or at the very least a suspension of disbelief). It’s to the writer’s benefit most of the time, but it has a detrimental effect on people I think. Because we keep seeking this “perfect” person. The one who is right for us. But often times… they do not exist.

I think falling in love with a fictional character is easy. Loving the people around us aren’t. Because the reality of that person is ugly, nonsensical, hypocritical, and awful. But that fictional character (despite how imperfect they are portrayed) has no flaws. We don’t see their reality. Their day-to-day. How they truthfully live. And that’s an issue. Because people will trick themselves to fall in love with someone they perceive as their “match.” Without even knowing the truth of how they really are.

Sometimes I’d like to think that the so-called “U-Haul Lesbians” are the best of us all when it comes to love. You can never know someone in and out, until you live together for an extended period. And the “U-Haulers” figure out quickly if they are meant to be. Sure, logistically, it makes little sense. But for whatever reason, I find those lesbians to be the most emotionally honest, communicative, and happiest overall. I am not saying we should all immediately move in with our little fling, but it’s something to think about.

I, personally, never felt like I fell in love with a fictional character. Because I know that that’s fiction, not reality. But I have daydreamed myself into loving people who do not exist. Or at least, an idea, an essence of a person. Without ever knowing their full selves. That is probably more delusional. But that’s a discussion for a different time.