By Riley Stose
After another day at my small-town, Southern middle school, all I knew was that my plan once I got home was to plop into my desk chair, open up my old IPad, and to start scrolling on the web. Animation memes, Internet Rabbit Holes, cosplay tutorials, or the newest 8-Bit song would play. Anything based on that one niche video game or art trend would be on my mind. If it was a LetsPlay, theorist video, or anything of the sort, I was content. It was my dopamine, it was
my fixation, it was my joy.
Once I was dropped off from the carpool the next day, I felt disconnected. In the classrooms, someone would be singing a new country song. I would catch a conversation between two guys about the latest car detail that they bought for themselves. During class breaks, I would catch a glimpse of the girls in the bathroom recording a new funny dance. At lunch, others would be discussing what happened at the bonfire gathering last weekend.
Obviously, something felt wrong here. I didn’t really know to the full extent what everyone was talking about. Rock-climbing, rodeos, it just didn’t connect. I knew the newest edit on Youtube, or the latest art on fandom-centered websites though. Another reason why I liked this content (besides its being so stimulating) was because it was produced by the compassion and dedication that people had for a piece of Internet media, so much so that they would explain and show it to the masses online. I don't think my classmates cared when I explained what I've
been watching, or what I've been playing, or what I've been listening to.
I knew they thought it was cringe, for I remember the times where I was told “Oh well, we don’t have enough room” from classmates planning weekend trips. I remember the times when I would get snickered at by passersby on the soccer field as I drew disproportionate fanart. So, I thought I could suffice with being far, far away from the people I knew when indulging in my interests. I could just sit at my desk every night, on that IPad, having the time of my life, alone.
Once I graduated, I was first worried It wouldn’t get better for me in college. After setting foot onto the courtyard during Move-In day of 2022, I was actually pleasantly surprised. Students wearing T-shirts of my favorite games riddled the campus, club posters centered around my favorite things were taped to the walls, classmate’s art of my interests were being selled at the fairs. Once I got the courage to talk to these students, I had made so many new, lively, compassionate friends.
These people showed me I could be unapologetically myself. I didn’t have to be ashamed about what made me compassionate, what made me inspired, and what kept me going. I finally found my people, beyond the screen.
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