Hi, my name is Lexi, and I care about fictional characters.
People think I’m dumb because fictional characters don’t exist. They think that when I claim to care about fictional people, that I’m saying I don’t care about real people. Or, that I care more about fictional characters than real characters.
That’s not what I’m saying.
I’m saying that yes, it matters to me if Sue and Sean are going to be together by the end of this season of The Middle. It matters to me whether or not Gabby St. Claire marries Riley Thomas by the end of Squeaky Clean Mysteries. It matters to me that DiNozzo left NCIS and McGee has big shoes to fill. Mr. Darcy matters. Jo March matters. Cory Matthews matters. Samwise Gamgee matters. Becker matters.
People keep telling me that they don’t. That they’re fictional characters. “They’re just fiction.”
How can they not understand the correlation between fictional people and real people?
I love fictional characters. I love their successes and their flaws. I love when they fall down on their faces, and when they choose to pick themselves back up again. I love their blossoming relationships and crushing defeats. I love them because they feel real to me.
Fictional characters are supposed to feel real, because if I can love something fictional, then how much more can I love you?
Yeah, you, real person. You who keep mocking me over this very issue. I love you regardless. You’re still my friend. I see you in your talents, passions, flaws, and mistakes, and I love you anyway.
You know why?
Because I didn’t give up on Mr. Darcy when he was acting like a jerk.
I didn’t lose hope when Percy lost his memory and he and Annabeth were separated.
I didn’t walk away from the March family when they grieved the loss of Beth.
Fictional people are representations of real people. That’s what they are to me.
And for me to love fictional people means I can love you better.