When I was a teenager, I was obsessed with Star Wars. I mean OBSESSED. Whatever you’re picturing right now, it’s not enough. I had the works: bedroom walls covered in posters of Skywalkers, bookshelves and DVD cases lined with Lucasfilm licensed media, and an encyclopedic (or should that be Wookieepedic?) knowledge of every word, music cue, and sound effect in the two trilogies.
This obsession got me mercilessly bullied. There was a time when publicly declaring you liked the prequels (Episodes I-III) was akin to publicly declaring you liked picking other people’s noses – at least, this was the case in high school, and probably also on Reddit. If you wanted to be ‘normal’, there was nothing to do but shun them. So I did.
