Undeniably, the movie The Perks of Being a Wallflower has had a lasting impact on my life. I resonate with many aspects of the film, such as the location of the film and the portrayal of the realistic struggles of coming of age. Above all else, I believe the emphasis on mental health throughout the movie has had the greatest effect on my life. When I first watched the film, I felt as though I would have fit right in as a character myself. For one, it was filmed and took place in a suburb just outside of Pittsburgh – which describes where I live to a T. I felt an instant connection to the film as I recognized many of the filming locations. Additionally, I was a freshman in high school when I watched it, the same grade as protagonist Charlie. I found myself relating with him: he was shy and introverted, embodying the wallflower, mostly observing life from the sidelines. The Perks of Being a Wallflower is not only significant to me because of the instant connection I felt with it, but also its handling of mental health issues. The film’s raw and honest portrayal of mental health struggles has given me a new perspective. Unlike social media, the film did not romanticize issues such as depression and PTSD; rather, it gave a real representation of these disorders through Charlie’s experiences. It showed a realistic but darker side of mental health, such as hospitalizations, breakdowns, and changes in behavior that often are not spoken about. Ultimately, this honest portrayal shows the burden mental disorders can weigh on one’s shoulders and the importance of acknowledging and seeking help one’s own struggles. Furthermore, this empathetic approach to mental health that is incorporated throughout the film has shown me the importance of looking out for others. Like Charlie, one may be able to hide their feelings very well. It’s possible that no one can sense that they are struggling. It is easy for a person to slip under the radar and become a “wallflower” – unable to express one’s feelings and having to experience their struggles in isolation. This film has influenced me to put more effort into checking up on others. I have found that the positive impact human connection had on Charlie’s wellbeing is present in real life, too. Even if it’s as simple as asking someone how their day has been, it is a significant gesture that proves that one is not as isolated as they may think, and they are not alone in their struggles.

It is the last night of our vacation in Cook Forest, Pennsylvania. It is getting late, but my entire family is in the living room, watching the only show that plays on the TV: Little House on the Prairie. As Carrie Ingalls frolics down the grassy field in the intro, a small black figure suddenly shoots out of our fireplace and swoops around the room, inches from my head. It quickly flies into another room, but my entire family is screaming, cussing, and racing for the door. After a moment, I recognize that the dark figure was a bat. At this point my entire family of four, plus my dog, gathers outside in a terrified huddle as though the cabin had caught on fire. My dog starts barking wildly and pulls at her leash, trying to get back inside to hunt down the bat. My mother, my sister, and I were anxiously debating if the bat had scraped the top of my head. For what feels like forever, we argue the topic back and forth -- can you contract rabies from indirect contact with a bat? Meanwhile, the bat had claimed the cabin as his own. We sit in the darkness of the forest, watching the illuminated windows as the bat flies sporadically from one corner of the room to the other. "Can't we just go home?" I suggest. "I'll never fall asleep knowing a bat is in the same room as me. It's our last night here, anyways." "That would be a genius idea, if only the bat didn't basically evict us from our own cabin," my sister snapped back. My father, being the rational outdoorsman he is, told us to cut the drama. "Here's the gameplan," he asserts. "I will trap the bat in the bathroom. Each of you need to run in, grab your suitcase and anything else of ours that you see. We are going home." We look at each other hesitantly, but what else were we supposed do -- sleep outside while the bat lives in the cabin rent free all night? Without saying another word, my father grabs a broom on the front porch and slowly makes his way into the cabin. Although we are outside, my father's screams are piercing. By shoving the broom near the bat, he was able to successfully herd him into the bathroom. My mom, my sister, and I all run in the house and separate into our rooms. I pack up my suitcase and toiletries in a record time of two minutes due to adrenaline, half expecting another bat to fly out of my closet. Minutes later, we all rush to exit the cabin and put our stuff in the car. Everybody is incredibly on edge and jittery. "What are we gonna do about the bat?" I ask. "Free him, I guess." my father responds impassively. We all scramble into the car and watch in horror as my father walks towards the bathroom window. Shielding his face, he quickly lifts up the screen and retreats back to the car. Like a cannon, the bat blasts out of the bathroom and into the forest, as though he was overjoyed to be back in his own habitat. By the time we begin our drive home, it is nearly 1 in the morning. Although I am delusional at this point and nearly certain this whole predicament had been a dream, I fall asleep laughing to myself, thinking about the irony that the bat was just as terrified as we were.