It's officially happening. My brain is now a swirling mixture of creatures. I can't distinguish what's real anymore, everything mingles together in a glorious confusing mess. Every conversation sounds like a script, and I can't stop analyzing about the story. I'm living, breathing fiction, and there's no going back.
I've become a walking trope. My dreams are filled with headcanons. This is both the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me.
Consumed by Fixation: A Brain Drain Tale
The walls/borders/boundaries were/had become/turned into a canvas, splashed with vivid/jarring/bizarre colors/shades/hues of her obsession/fixation/craving. Every inch reminded/spoke/whispered of him. He was/She was/It was everywhere, embedded/woven/infused into the very fabric of her reality/perception/worldview. She scoured/delved/raked through every/any/all detail, seeking/hunting/grasping at fragments/glimpses/shadows of his essence/being/presence. Sleep was a fleeting/precious/forgotten luxury, replaced by manic/frantic/obsessive rituals designed/constructed/orchestrated brainrot to draw him closer/keep him within reach/maintain the illusion. The line between sanity/reason/order and madness/chaos/delusion was blurred/lost/discarded, leaving her adrift in a sea of unhinged/frantic/desperate yearning/need/hunger.
Drowning in Fandom Thoughts flooding
It's like my brain is a fanfiction soup, constantly churning with ideas. One minute I'm obsessed with character arcs, the next I'm crafting about headcanons. My inspiration board is overflowing with sketches and I can barely keep up. It's wonderful, but hey, at least I'm never lacking inspiration.
There's Absolutely Escape from This Divine Rot
The aroma lingering through the ancient ruins was intoxicating. A symphony of fermentation played on your taste buds, a chorus of tangy notes promising revelation unlike any other. This isn't just rot, it's perfection. A dance of life and death, celebrated by the persistent march of time. Yield to the allure.
Savor the transformation before it's lost.
Living Rent-Free in My Headspace
Some days it's/it is/it's a beautiful thing/concept/situation. Other days, it's a constant/an unending/a relentless battle/struggle/war against my own/inner/subconscious voice/thoughts/narrator.
I try/Attempt/Strive to silence/ignore/muffle the noise/static/chatter sometimes, but it's/it is/it always there. Like a chorus/ensemble/choir of opinions/ideas/critiques constantly/always/perpetually performing/singing/humming.
Maybe/Perhaps/Possibly that's the point/trick/purpose though, right? To keep/make/foster me engaged/active/aware even/especially/particularly when I'm/I am/I feel alone/isolated/disconnected.
Still/Regardless/Despite this, I wouldn't trade it for the world. This unending/ever-present/constant dance/dialogue/conversation with myself, it's what makes/shapes/defines me. It's who I am/become/truly.
Brain Cells Gone, Replaced by Content
They say your brain is wired differently after you get deeply invested/obsessed/consumed by a fandom/universe/community. Like, totally replaced. My neurons used to be about solving problems/puzzles/equations, now it's all about deciphering lore/meta/Easter eggs and crafting the perfect/ideal/ultimate fanfiction/theory/meme. Don't get me wrong, I still know how to function/exist/breathe in the real world. But my dreams? Purely canonical/headcanon/crossover now. You can practically hear the theme song/battle music/opening narration playing on repeat.
- Maybe/Perhaps/Totally that explains why I'm always talking about it/this/that.
- Can't/Won't/Just don't blame me, though! It's just so amazing/awesome/incredible.