When you find your Doctor. That's when everything changes.
It doesn't matter which Doctor it is. It could be any of the eleven proud Time Lords. Everyone has their own Doctor, their favorite. And they'll fight you tooth and nail if you disagree.
You devour anything and everything that your Doctor has to offer. Even if it's just a movie. Or a single season. Even in black and white. None of that matters, because he's your Doctor.
You find yourself, quite suddenly, in the throes of a most peculiar kind of love. You love him unconditionally, expecting nothing in return. If he were real (though sometimes, you think he is anyway), you would crave his attention and affection, to the exclusion of almost anything else. You would wish nothing more than to be by his side forever. If he were real.
But that's the part that hurts the most. That he's not real. And no matter how much stuff you have, or how many episodes you've seen, he isn't real. And the worst part is, you can't make him real.
Pretending only makes it hurt more. Staring at street corners does you no good, and looking for that particular shade of blue is just a waste of time. (Isn't it?) And if wishing on a star actually helped, there would be millions of him by now.
Millions. Or maybe just one. But one is all we need.