Being enraptured by media as a child

If there’s one thing I miss about being a kid, it’s the sheer fervour I had for the media I consumed. Being an adult’s alright, but it kinda sucks knowing that I can’t experience media with the curiosity, wonder, and ability to form wild attachments that I used to have. You get what I mean? Emotional immersion, perhaps? And while I certainly miss the utter joy of characters overcoming their struggles, what oddly miss is the fear. Okay I still feel fear and I struggle with anything horror, but childhood fear is different: it’s transformative, fuelled by imagination, and it lingers, that overly empathetic feeling of wot if that happened to me that you look back and laugh at for how ridiculous it is. As you grow up, you gain an amazing appreciation for artistry, writing, direction, etc, but you lose the magic. Is it really a fair trade? I don’t have much else to say on the matter itself, but I’d like to share some things that have stuck in my mind since I was young. Spoiler-free, of…