this is the first time i’ve seen such a perfect description of why I’m sometimes discomfited at seeing ~characters like me~ in fiction. it seemed disturbingly counterintuitive to my beliefs - and made me guilty - to want to keep reading books and watching movies primarily about cis straight white people, despite being none of those; sometimes to the point of actively avoiding ~inclusive~ stories or being quietly angry about them. there’s always something about those stories that hurt, even as they may validate and provide catharsis. and this. this is why. it’s the escapism. i don’t want to be brought back to rl in fiction. i don’t want to be reminded of my problems. i read to get away, and to get to be other people for a while, and to worry about problems that aren’t real, and i’m afraid that that’s becoming something harder and harder to find.
it’s a double edged sword. i do also find comfort in characters who are gay and trans and non-white, and in them i find a great outlet to work out my own issues and feel less alone. but at other times, it’s that escape i desperately need, and which i never had the words to defend until i saw that passage.