I love Avatar. I love it more than most other film nerds I know, in fact, but even my infatuation with it pales in comparison to the members of Avatar-Forums.com. Obviously there will always be fans who take something a little too seriously, who love something so much that they want to write fan fiction about it, or dress up as part of its world at a convention, but it's not often that you'll find a group that is openly depressed about how much they love a film. Such is the case of the responders to this thread on the aforementioned site: Ways to cope with the depression of the dream of Pandora being intangible.

First off, if someone doesn't use that as either the name of an indie alt-rock band or the title of their ironic memoirs, I'll be severely disappointed. Secondly, is this really necessary? I'm not poking fun at the idea of being depressed that you can't live in a fantasy world; after all, I don't know how many times I've given myself a concussion trying to run through the barrier to platform 9 3/4 at Kings Cross in London, but it is strange to me that people are legitimately wondering how to cope with the experience of seeing Avatar and then 'waking up'. Because, well, what kind of advice are they expecting? Do they think there's someone out there with a secret teleporter to Pandora?

See the movie again. Read books about it. Write books about it. Buy the soundtrack. Create art about it. Dress up as its characters. Get it tattooed on your back. Buy a black van and airbrush a giant image of Toruk onto the side and drive around telling strangers you knew you had to take it to the next level. You know, normal fanboy behavior. Then again, maybe I just don't love James Cameron's fantasy as much as I thought I did. Maybe I need to see it a fourth time before I have a hard time coping with my own existence here on Earth.

Thanks to Geekologie for the find.