We need to rewind to 2006 and being 12 years old asap. On the one hand, everything was awkward and ridiculous and uncomfortable, but on the other hand, it was so fucking great to live in your head for 90% of your life. Remember the days where you could have a crush on someone you had seen exactly 3 times, who definitely didn’t know you existed, but you had the time and energy to daydream an incredibly detailed love story for the two of you? You started with the meet cute, imagined your way through the first date, meeting their family, the inevitable misunderstanding that led to a breakup, the reuniting, and the dramatic series finale where you got married. And if you were an expert imaginer, you could time the daydream so the really soul-crushing bits lasted for a long time, and you could just sit there and be sad and full of feelings for a couple weeks. You were 12 with no life, so it wasn’t like you had any real reason to be sitting on your windowsill, looking out at the rain, listening to Goodbye to You and sighing, but there you were, and your mom kept asking what was wrong but there was no way to explain that your relationship with Brendon Urie had just imploded and you were drawing out the sadness as much as you could. It was so fucking pathetic and honestly probably unhealthy but somehow living in the daydream was so much better than living in reality. It was like a having a fantastic second life, because all anyone saw you as was the quiet kid in the corner with no friends, but you knew that in your other reality you had just broken your favorite character’s heart and were about to board a train to Paris in the rain and have them run after you to profess their love and it was so much more real and vital than anyone could ever possibly understand.
