My fangirl (hi)story
At the age of 12… I wanted to be a starship captain.
At the age of 13… I was taught that aliens are not green, but grey.
At the age of 14… I learned that not everyone who claims to “keep peace” also does so.
At the age of 15… I realized that seven days are not much to stop a gruesome future from happening.
At the age of 16… I became wary of peaches.
At the age of 17… I said goodbye to a captain who used to be a demigod.
At the age of 18… I got in touch with serial killers.
At the age of 19… I learned that the Lost City isn’t lost, but has merely been misplaced
At the age of 20… I wanted to believe all over again.
At the age of 21… I mourned the loss of a woman who had managed to warm the heart of misanthrope.
At the age of 22… I dreamt of travelling trough time and space in a blue box.
At the age of 23… I began to store thoughts and experiences in a memory palace.
At the age of 24… I met a man who never needed the help of a wizard to get a heart.
At the age of 25... I looked up into the sky whenever there was a thunderstorm, waiting for a God to arrive.
At the age of 26… I finally understood that magic exists – but that it will always come with a price.
In 15 years of being a fangirl you learn a lot.
You laugh, you cry, you yell at your telly, you get excited or frustrated about all the little things no one around you who isn’t a fan will ever get. You become an encyclopedia, knowing all sorts of facts and trivia about your favorite shows, and you have a quote ready for every thinkable and unthinkable situation.
But most importantly, you learn that you never stop being a fangirl.
Because it’s not just a hobby – it’s a way of life.
And it’s one we can be proud of!