Greer of many fandoms

They say our voices matter... but they don't.

Imagine your in the store getting a battery for an Invisible Fence dog collar. You've seen these many times and know exactly what they look like because it's what keeps your crazy dog from running away. So you get to the store and ask someone for help finding them. You describe the battery to the man whom you think is already judging your school uniform or hair color or stature or voice. You wonder "is this really what the battery looks like or am I bad at describing things like always?" You shake the thought and follow him with his friends still chatting behind the counter because you're the only one there. The man shows you a battery, which looks exactly like the battery your dogs use except a different color. You think oh okay that's right, but then that little voice grabs your brain and whispers that it could still be wrong. That the color is off and so the battery is wrong (you know the thought is ridiculous but you can't ignore her in your own head). So you tell the man you're not sure even though you just perfectly described the battery and play it off saying your parents sent you and you're not 100%. He suggests you take a picture to send and you do that while you wait, absolutely positive that he and his friends all think you are the biggest idiot dumb blonde kid. You get a confirmation (finally) and proceed your checkout. You're paying with your card but can't find it because there are other things in your wallet covering it. After what feels like forever digging, you find it tucked into a dollar bill. All the while you feel the men's eyes drilling through you supposedly judging you. Everything feels like a blur as you sheepishly gather yourself and get the heck out of there, surely they are joking about you now. You get in the car and get ready to drive away and beat yourself up about how you shouldn't have been so stupid and how you could have handled it differently. But see because of our lovely little anxiety friend, we can't really function like that so you drive off and get home in regret.

I know this movie was a kids movie but honestly it's got the best messages and symbolism. The whole movie is supposed to be about happiness and finding that happiness. I feel like the bergens represent depression. I mean they were sad. Miserable and could barely even walk upright. I know with me there were days were I couldn't get up either. So they take up a habit. A bad habit. Dangerous. Eating trolls who represent a way to happiness. Eating trolls could represent the bad ways we cope with depression. Cutting. Eating disorders. Drinking. Smoking. Drugs. Ways we self destruct. And the end when the Bergens find happiness in love represents recovery. They become happy creatures like the trolls and depression is gone.

Me: you do realize we are fighting over a book right? Me: this isn't what normal mother-daughter arguments are over. Me: normal mother-daughter arguments= drinking, drugs, and teen pregnancy Mom: I DON'T DRINK THAT MUCH, I'VE NEVER DONE DRUGS, AND I'M TOO OLD TO BE A TEEN MOTHER!! I love my mom.

So I took the AP chemistry exam today and my best friend texted me asking how it went. This is how I respond

Here's to all the peopl who cried over Clays tape over the book. Here's to all the people who knew about what happened at the party before the shpw even mentioned it. Here's to all the people who gave dirty looks to Justin and Jessica and Bryce and Tyler the second they appeared on screen. Here's to all the people who spent hours of binging anticipating Clay's tape and crying before it even started. Here's to all the people who hated Mr. Porter before the last episode. Here's to all the people who knew exactly what they were getting themselves into watching the Netflix series.