2008. I was a scrawny freshmen kid who got introduced to the Nancy Drew series. I loved her perfect character too much that it came to the point where I printed out every Wikipedia article that I found about her. I tried so hard to memorize every detail about her life, from childhood to her teenage detective years. And that was everything for me.
2009. It was the first time I read the Harry Potter series and the queen, JK Rowling created an entire world about wizards and magic and stuff. It was so huge that exploring it was so much fun. I made this complicated map connecting every character of the series through their lineage, their houses and their social statuses. It was a present for a friend’s birthday.
2010. My friend and I wrote our very first proper fanfiction. We’ve written a few before but they were only shameful short stories that we now bring up every once in a while to annoy each other. It was a crossover of the Harry Potter and Percy Jackson series and it was 34 notebook pages long. Everyday, for more than 6 months, we took turns of continuing the story. And we finished it.
2011. Another friend and I got so obsessed with Scotland that we wrote a short story adapted from a 1954 musical about an old Scottish town that magically appears every 100 years called Brigadoon for an English project. Pretty sure our teacher thought we just made it up but it didn’t matter because doing research about Scottish phrases fed my soul.
I miss this. I miss getting preoccupied of the things that I find interesting and just making it the center of my life to the point of total madness. Right now, the way I get interested over stuff feels unacceptably mediocre and it just sucks. I miss caring less about people looking at me in a funny way because of my obsessions. Hell, I miss having obsessions for people to look at me in a funny way.