So I go to my usual coffee place and the girl behind the counter recommends their cold-pressed juice. And this month's special? Blueberry. I could see in her eyes that she recognized me. Mercifully I walked out before making too much of a scene.

For everyone telling me to get over it? Remember that I was juiced! As a child! That is a sentence that no one should ever have to say. Imagine what that does to someone. And the fact that Wonka even had a human juicing apparatus on hand is a sign of sociopathy.

It’s been twenty years. And with all of your support, I’ve managed to accept the things I cannot change. But that man did a serious number on us. Shocker that the “four-course meal in a stick of gum” never hit the shelves. Maybe test it before taunting an innocent child with it?

AND THEY SANG! How the hell did those creatures have time to compose a song about me? It either implies sickening premeditation or amazing improvisational skills. Monsters no matter what.

Have you heard the new Reddit theory about Slugworth? He never existed. Wonka invented his own nemesis and used him to entrap us! And there’s another rumor that Willy built a great glass elevator escape hatch to outer space. It just gets crazier. Our story would make one hell of a Netflix docuseries.

I’ve been pitching the doc around town. Talked to Michael Moore and the people behind The Jinx. But no one will touch it. I guess Wonka has the same lawyers and PR team as the Catholic Church.

I know what you're going to say. I need to stop projecting. Well, I’ve worked on myself. My therapist has helped me realize that I had a Napoleon complex long before I was shrunk down and that whole debacle forced me to confront my debilitating TV addiction. And this isn’t about Wonka! It’s about us.

What if we went in together as executive producers on this docuseries? No way they turn down that pitch! It’ll be like the NXIVM cult doc. If the world knew what we went through, then they’d have sympathy for us.

I just want to be in TV again. Sorry. I meant, on TV.

Apologies for my low energy. I am in the midst of my intermittent fasting window and last consumed a Quest Bar seven hours ago.

No one at the gym recognizes me, permitting me some semblance of anonymity. However whenever I stare into the mirrors, I still see that child. Part of me will always be drowning in that chocolate river. Being forced through the pipes. All because I gazed into that lake like a confectionary Narcissus.

Wonka was clearly a sick man who tortured children like a reclusive Old Testament God before choosing his favorite, but he also opened my eyes to my terrible impulse control and overindulgent parents. I have continued to atone for my mortal and gastronomic sins by religiously following David Goggins’ workout plan as I train for an ultramarathon in Patagonia.

There are certain days when I am tempted to backslide. Traversing the sweets aisle at Whole Foods is always a struggle. But there are no cheat days on my calendar, for I cannot have the name “Gloop” be forever associated with callous gluttony.

Enough of this shit! Every week we come here and we complain and gripe and claim to have moved on. And where has that left us? With no hope of redemption. We have been forced to live our lives as those unworthy Golden Ticket rejects. Was I greedy? Impatient? Yes. Because all children are greedy and impatient. And yet Charlie got rich! That whiny kid with the asshole grandpa who stole the Fizzy Lifting Drinks! We all saw them! There are rules. We live in a society.

My daddy’s lawyers have had zero success in their legal battle against Wonka. Apparently the Golden Ticket constituted an implicit contract, limiting his liability. So I say we storm the chocolate factory and take what is ours. We can get back inside and sabotage the product. Augustus can swim a triathlon lap in the chocolate river. It’s not like they’ll be able to use that chocolate… Right?

This is our golden ticket! We don’t another twenty years. Not another day. I want to do this now.

Sorry to cut you off, Veruca, but that’s our time. I’d like to remind the group that our purpose is to move past the Wonka incident. Not to dwell. Or to propose insurrection. Let’s now close with our weekly affirmation:

“Even though there’s no earthly way of knowing
Which direction we are going
I am capable of change.

“Yes the danger must be growing
For the rowers keep on rowing
But I can accomplish great things.

“And they’re certainly not showing
Any signs that they are slowing
But I am enough.”