Why Walt Disney Is To Blame.

• Journals
• Romance
• Satire
• Humour

								
Disney and all productions connected to The Walt Disney Company, you are to blame. Since 1923 you have set a moral compass, unreachable expectations, and delusional irrationality’s a flame for young, innocent minds. The animation movies and stories created within your establishment have caused me and other affected casualties to crash miserably into life-ruining situations, and I hope you realise this destruction.
We all remember the syrup-like glaze smearing over our savoury eyes as the adult decides to sweeten us up with our favourite Disney film before bedtime. The dun dun soundtrack introducing the beginning of that perfect storyline, ready to overtake all of your senses; plucking like a guitar player on all your heartstrings. Each emotion picked at note by note to take you on that roller-coaster of melancholy and joy. Joy being the inevitable outcome, as almost every fairytale developed by Disney ends just how we want it to. Scratching that romantic, happy ending itch in our brain’s limbic cortex. They choose to attack this corner of our nervous system in particular, as it stands voluntarily vulnerable ready to receive and transmit that sealing dopamine hit to the rest of our helpless bodies. In other words, Disney’s money maker. However, me and my brain are smart enough to know that this slight peak in mood is all a façade, a lie. One which I aim to expose.
After my supposed ‘Prince charming’ left the tower in which I stayed, I assumed that he would fight villages and towns in his path just to retrieve his princess, which is me of course. Yet I still find the bricks beneath me untouched, a bit soggy from tears yes, but no sign of a manly embrace. Even though some may say that I pushed him away, Disney’s handbook for romance and relationships would clearly suggest that at least by now, he would have wised up. Army’s and kingdoms would be no match for his fight for our ‘true’ love. But as many of you may have guessed this wasn’t the case, instead he’s gone back to his nine to five handyman job not batting an eyelid at my existence. I could be dead in a ditch for all his highness is concerned, so much for fucking soulmates. So yes, this was when a stark realisation smacked me right in the face, totalling a huge bill for heartbreak reconstruction surgery. And the aftercare package outlining to this patient that ‘The societal warped ideology of true love, as seen on T.V, is all but a misconception that you, yes you were foolish enough to believe’. A constitution that maybe a fable few will be stupid enough to experience, but a prescribed medicine that I’m most defiantly allergic to. ‘Recovery period may take weeks, months or even years depending on the level of dick headery, enjoy!’
Now you may be thinking to yourself, a little dramatic, and I agree. But let me first take you on a journey of all the books and movies that evidently brought me to this brilliant yet bitter conclusion. If I do say so myself. Starting with Cinderella, a classic from rags to riches structure encapsulated by the idea that only a shoe could prove which lady was the prince’s soulmate. The most ridiculous tale, because who would hold a smelly shoe for days and find that romantic? Well, me I did. This stemmed the pathetic expectation that a man will truly wait no matter what to attain the girl of his dreams. Yet in today’s real world if you go to the toilet for one minute, by the time you’re back your supposed date is deciding what name to call his kid with the luscious haired bar tender who’s been smirking at him the whole night. Moving on from the feet side of things we meet ‘true loves kiss’, advertised best in Princess and the Frog, Sleeping Beauty or The Little Mermaid. Yet I’ve kissed a few frogs in my lifetime and even after the fact, they were still just as slimy as before. Lastly, the cherry on top or some may say the apple, is dear Snow White. The tasteless movie that made living with seven random little men a totally normal occurrence if you’re awaiting the saviour from a prince. Now if I began living with seven total strangers, I'd either be a university student or a possible desperate psychopath. But each to their own, I guess.
Another Disney adaptation that has always hit a nerve within me is Beauty and the Beast or another title known as, ‘Me and my Ex’. I’m joking don’t sue me for deformation, Jason. Well, for this pesky little tale I think Belle is a shit-faced liar personally, I mean whatever floats your boat girl. But if we are being real there is no way you loved that stinky, hairy beast of a ‘man’, unless you were blind, deaf or stupid. I bet she was happily counting down the hours until the expected took place with that bear or wolf, whatever he was. To put her out of her misery and make her his last course meal of the night. ‘A la de Human’ accompanied in a sweet yellow dressing. Now love is love no matter what you look like but I could bet on the crusty old tee shirt left behind by Jason that Belle was jumping for joy when he finally turned into a mediocre-looking fella. Proving to me, that this tale is just as stupid as the first time I watched it. But maybe the perfect lesson for us women. Do not settle for a hairy tall man just because he lives in a big expensive Castle.
Talking about expensive taste, I unpopularly believe that we should take a leaf, or Lilypad- pardon the Princess and The Frog pun- from Princess Charlotte’s book of high standards. She, a supporting character in the tale nearly becomes a main spokesperson for fair treatment, as she prances around wanting only the highest class, expensive items from her father and upcoming suitors. Now that’s a lifestyle I would live, I’ve not got any time for bums, I’m a university student! It would be a double homicide of financial destruction if I did. I’m just saying that romance is great and all, but come on guys, a bit of cash splashed here and there certainly cheers us up from time to time. Nope, just me? Well, that ditch will certainly have me resurrected and up digging for gold if the opportunity arises. So, Charlotte you are the epitome of ‘Princess treatment’ and I’m here for it. And potentially half of your inheritance dear, still got my accommodation bills to pay off.
Now with all this said as I question the true motives of Disney, in recent years they may have started to redeem their reputation with newer modern fairytale takes like the movie Frozen. A frosty cold kingdom with characters that actually seem to warm to me and my situation as a young adult now. Elsa stands stronger than past princesses in the sense that she is content in being alone. Fully romantically alone without the need for a prince or Princess. I’d like to say that this has helped me to be okay alone, with all my own self-love, thoughts and without the added left-over piss on my toilet seat from a certain someone. Elsa has helped me to save a lot on cleaning supplies it seems and from basing my emotions on the insecurity of another’s, so I thank Disney for that.

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