Let me tell you a little story.
When I was like, oh, I don’t know, maybe 15 years old, I was walking through this massive convention hall. My eyes were wide. My heart was beating fast. I was excited on a level I had never been up until that point.
I was surrounded by all the things I loved, but on a grand scale, I felt this sense of belonging. I felt a sense of wonder. I felt like, for lack of a better word, I was HOME.
That was the first time I went to a comic book convention, and the first one I had ever gone to, was Wizard World Chicago.
For a guy like me who was bullied for being different, being in a place like Wizard World was not only comforting, but safe. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone. It made me feel peaceful. I walked up and down the aisles, smiling and feeling a surge of positive vibes. I sifted through boxes of comics in complete astonishment because I was able to buy stacks and stacks and motherfucking STACKS of comics for mere quarters.
Then, I walked through Artist Alley.
When I was like, oh, I don’t know, maybe 15 years old, I was walking through this massive convention hall. My eyes were wide. My heart was beating fast. I was excited on a level I had never been up until that point.
I was surrounded by all the things I loved, but on a grand scale, I felt this sense of belonging. I felt a sense of wonder. I felt like, for lack of a better word, I was HOME.
That was the first time I went to a comic book convention, and the first one I had ever gone to, was Wizard World Chicago.
For a guy like me who was bullied for being different, being in a place like Wizard World was not only comforting, but safe. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone. It made me feel peaceful. I walked up and down the aisles, smiling and feeling a surge of positive vibes. I sifted through boxes of comics in complete astonishment because I was able to buy stacks and stacks and motherfucking STACKS of comics for mere quarters.
Then, I walked through Artist Alley.