Sometimes I wonder if Iād have been more mentally stable had I never watched Naruto.
This is something Iāve been thinking about lately, and I wanted to put it somewhere.
Then I remember Iām a weird little freak and have always been a weird little freak and I will continue to be a weird little freak forevermore.
My very first fixation started at the young and impressionable age of exactly 3 years oldāsharks.
After a few years, a classmate eventually called me a āshark freakā and thatās kind of stuck in my head ever sinceāhence the username.
Itās a bit of reminder that my obsessions never really fadeāthey just seem to take a bit of a backseat until they randomly resurface again.
13 year old me adored Naruto. And then I didnāt think about him again properly for years until all of a sudden, last year, on a random night I woke up in cold sweat from a dream about Boruto and Shippudenās ending.
The intense sense of injustice, revulsion, anger, and near religious fervor I felt cannot properly be conveyed in words. I wrote Chapter 1 that night in a hazeābefore spending the entire day somewhat revising and editing it before posting it. Pressing the post button baffled me; Iād never posted on Ao3 before despite being a lurker for the longest time.
It was strange. Naruto had been gone. I hadnāt thought about him in years. Why had he come back? As it turns out, I was the one whoād left.
I know I talk about him as though heās a real person. Butāyears after Iāve watched the show, itās like heās come back to teach me about things I havenāt learned or have already forgotten in the brief period we spent apart. To me, the impact heās had on my life even as a fictional character is undeniable.
I felt like it was fate. I hadnāt thought far enough about what to do with the plot, but I knew what I wanted out of this fic: to write it.
My fic is just a fic. Itās random fanfiction. However, the compulsion I have to write it out, feels like, to me, fate. Iām being weird and intense about this, of course, but dear reader, if I wasnāt as weird and intense as I am, I wouldnāt be able to write them the way that I do.
My dear Naruto and Sasuke. I adore other characters. Of course I do. My obsession with them may fade again one dayāswitching from the driverās seat back to passengerās seat. But it will never be gone.
I believe other people share this sentiment too: to see your own wounds reflected back at you in another person or circumstance in life is the greatest, yet most humiliating form of validation, acknowledgment, and recognition a human can experience. Itās addicting. Itās repulsive. Itās euphoric. Itās nauseating. Itās all these things all at once. And for that, I love Naruto so much.
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