I wonder what it’s like to be a cishet shipper of cishet ships…
To wonder when rather than if your ship will ever kiss; to not be afraid of asking the writers and cast about it and, oh how nice it must be, to be encouraged and respected when you do.
I wonder what it’s like to never have to wonder about certain things, like, how different your life would’ve been if you hadn’t had that one character to hold onto while growing up, or how different life might’ve been if you’d had an abundance of characters like that.
How nice it must be to play favorites, to have specific tastes and particular desires explored and fulfilled; to have the comfort of knowing that ships like yours will never be hard to come by, that, even if this one in particular doesn’t make it, at least you’ll never be devoid of options.
I wonder, how very nice it must be, to be a cishet shipper of cishet ships…
To not feel as though an entire future of possibilities is contingent upon something so many others insist is merely a tragic misinterpretation on your part; something you’re told your passion for is nothing short of neurotic and evidently worthless because “this isn’t real life! It’s just a ship!”
How nice it must be for your ship to truly be just a ship.