Keep it schtum

Many things about the world annoy me, but one of the things that I hate most are Fangirls and Fandoms. If anyone reading this would class themselves as this and now feels horribly offended, hear me out. You see, I don’t hate all girls who are a fan of something. I’m pretty sure I’d be hating more than a third of the world. I hate those really intense Fangirls. You know the ones who blog about their favourite band/book/artist/singer etc. every single day. Who call themselves fangirls. Who talk with their friends about what they’re a fan of for every second of the day. So much that it’s annoying. They make references to it everytime they open their mouth.
However, this isn’t really enough for me to hate them. In fact I am probably a little bit like that about some things. What annoys me is when they post comments saying “I’m only thirteen and…” or “I bet that I’m the only… who’s able to appreciate this legend.” I hate those people who say that what they loved saved their lives. They didn’t “save your life” maybe, just maybe, they made it better. But they didn’t save it. They’re just a band singing what they feel, or an author writing down a story in their living room, or an artist making marks on paper. I hate those fans who act like they’re the only people who have ever loved things.
I feel really sorry for those people who can’t keep what they love to themselves for any amount of time. There’s a really big secret that to me it seems like hardly any people know- the things that you keep private are the most sacred and real feeling. When you have something or someone that you love and you keep it a secret it makes you feel excited and exciting and A.L.I.V.E. People will say something that will remind you of something and you will smile secretly to yourself. You’ll savour every moment you have to yourself to think and think and think. The loves that you keep secret feel… cleaner, purer. They feel like they belong to you and only you because you haven’t shared them with anyone. They belong to you and only you. Only you. It’s just yours. If you don’t go onto tumblr and goodreads and preach in capitals about how you’re the biggest fan of whatever, than your feelings for it feel so much stronger, so much more intense. When you say things that to you really have a hidden meaning and it’s so much better than when you jump up and down as you squeal with a friend about how much you love ENTER WHATEVER YOU LOVE HERE. When you’re in art and you draw someone with a certain feature that relates to something else… it gives you tingles up your spine. When you’re subtle and keep it to yourself and walk around with what feels like an important secret… well to be honest it feels amazing.
I think it’s sad because hardly any people seem to know about this. Everyone is so caught up with sharing everything. Telling people how they feel and what they love. Some of the first questions you ask a new friend are things like “What’s your favourite..?” “Do you like..?” “have you heard of..?” It’s at times like this that I feel so happy that I can be a bit of an introvert. I’m not saying this to sound like a git (even though I know that that’s how it’ll come across) but when I keep what I love secret I feel special.
Two parts of me fight each other: the part that wants to share and the part that wants to keep behind closed doors. So I bargain. The things that don’t mean as much to me I share, the things I don’t love as much I share. The things that matter most to be I keep to myself, behind closed doors. Closed and locked doors. I have bits of introvert and bits of extrovert, I suppose. I can be quiet and I can be loud. I think everyone can be too if they tried, who knows, maybe they’d like it?
Fill your heart my friends


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