My favourite thing is when people read classic romances for the first time and realise how different they are to the way popular culture represents them. Mr. Darcy isn’t some handsome, perfect hunk. He’s a socially awkward loser who writes embarrassingly long, eloquent letters to the girl he likes because he can’t speak two words to her face without colossally fucking up. Mr. Rochester is a creepy bigamous liar who keeps women in his attic. Heathcliff’s a terrifying fucking psychopath who abuses kids. JULIET WAS THIRTEEN.
“You’re gonna mistakes, you’re gonna make good friends and Mr. Feeny will probably teach you every grade you’re ever in. And maybe you’ll meet a woman as wonderful as Topanga, how’d you like that? And maybe you’ll make a friend like Shawn. But when you’re not a little boy anymore, when the world taught you how to be this man, you know, you’re still gonna make mistakes. But your family and your friends that you made along the way are gonna help you. Even thought it’ll seem like the world’s going out of it’s way to teach you these hard lessons, you’re gonna realize that it’s the same world that’s giving you your family and your friends, you know? And you’re gonna come to believe to believe that the world’s gonna protect you too. Boy Meets World. Now I get it."