Fiction Is Greater Than Reality

I watch a lot of TV. I have shows that I am so dedicated to and so in love with. And when a really great show ends, I feel pretty intense sadness – considering it is only a TV show.

I’m fairly certain that I cry more over fiction – books, movies, TV – than I do over real life. I become so invested in the lives of the characters and feel so much emotion for the created worlds that I experience on the page or the screen. If you were to break it down to numbers – and numbys and math are so not my thing – but it wouldn’t be outlandish to say that I cry during 80% of the books, movies, or shows that I read/watch. I most certainly do not cry over 80% of the things that happen in my life.

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Tell me that didn’t make your heart break.

I’m not sure what this abundance of emotion for fiction and lack of in reality says about me. Perhaps it is my apathetic, status quo nature. I just go along, coming to terms with things I don’t like and can’t change, and making the best of it along the way. In consequence, I lead a fairly average life. Planned and predictable. Spontaneity was never really my thing – re: my anxiety. But I’m happy with it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I suppose that could be why I become so invested in these fictional characters and their spectacular, glamorous lives. I am too afraid to become emotionally invested in anything in reality, so I throw my emotions at fictional characters. Reading and watching allows me to take risks that I never would dream of in real life.

But to be honest, I’m okay with that. I live for the romanticized plots. For the extreme displays of emotion that just don’t happen in real life – at least not mine. But that’s okay. I’ll always be able to turn to moments like these.

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