Although this column is printed in Times, I need everyone to know that as my original draft was written in Comic Sans, also known as one of the most hated fonts in the entire world. There are two reasons why this is important:

   First, writing is hard when you’re trying to sound intelligent. No one can really sound intelligent when their words are written in Comic Sans, so using that font takes some pressure off and lets me just write.

   Second, I have a soft spot for Comic Sans. When I was kid, 99 percent of the handouts I got from teachers were printed in Comic Sans, so I assumed that it was a super fancy font. Of course, it’s not.

   Yet, the soft spot stays; it’s an example of my tendency to like uncool things. I hope I don’t sound like one of those people who act superior because their tastes are“unusual,” and I really hope this column doesn’t sound like that cringeworthy “I’m a weirdo” monologue from Riverdale.

   In fact, I’m usually embarrassed of my tastes. I’m always afraid that talking about them will make people think less of me, and no one is more unhealthily dependent on other people’s opinions than I am.

   For example, I hate talking about my music taste. I’m a K-Pop fan, and few people around me are. Even when I’m among fellow K-Pop fans, I find it difficult to explain why I almost exclusively like girl groups. I’ve simply never found boy groups interesting. That’s who I am, but it’s hard to explain that when everyone else thinks BTS is the new Backstreet Boys.

   I’ve even found a way to like Star Wars “wrong.” The franchise’s most vocal fans are white dudebros who like dark and gritty storytelling. That’s not me. Sure, I love the action and the special FX as much as the next girl, but I watched Star Wars for the first time in 2016 because of the pretty people in it (Daisy Ridley, if you’re reading this, I’m single). I stayed watching it because I’m a sucker for optimism. I love the idea that “rebellions are built on hope,” and that a nobody from the space equivalent of Nevada could somehow become a hero.

   I hate when things that I watch become too sad. I guess maybe that’s why my favorite part of the Star Wars canon isn’t one of its movies, but the spin-off Disney XD show Star Wars: Rebels. It’s still Star Wars, but it’s fun, and it’s cute, and it’s more about family than Jedi genocide. In an age where depressing media like Game of Thrones or Breaking Bad dominates the conversation and convinced us that grim narratives are inherently more intellectual, I feel kind of dumb talking about how I’m head-over-heels in love with hope.

   I could go on, but frankly, if I did, I’d feel sillier than I already feel, and I’ve only talked about the parts of myself that I’ve accepted. I guess I shouldn’t blame the cultural zeitgeist for my insecurities, but it’s easier to accept that explanation than to look deep inside myself and question why I’m so dependent on other people’s opinions.

   But, things can change. I can change, eventually. If I’ve learned anything from Star Wars, it’s that there’s hope for me yet. And if Star Wars has been lying to me, well, I can simply turn up the volume on my favorite Red Velvet song and pretend that nothing else exists.