Can Shrek Talk Be Used In Memes Effectively?

My best friend loved playing 'jokes.' On my birthday, she projected my worst photos in front of everyone, saying she just wanted to 'liven up the mood.' When I was on my period, she deliberately gave me a defective pad. Even when she saw the stain on my clothes, she said nothing–claiming she was helping me 'get more attention.' After I started dating, she edited my photos into suggestive images and spread them across social media groups, pricing them like a product. When I finally snapped and confronted her, she just laughed. "I'm just helping you test your boyfriend," she said. "If he doubts you, then he doesn't really love you. How can you blame me?" Later, a man used the information from those posts to track me down and harm me. I did not survive what followed. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she first shared those images.

Two different worlds, two separate lives are fused together in this surreal tale of the supernatural. A world unknown to her and a world he runs from. An unending war between their worlds leads them down the same path with their destinies aligned. What will happen when the fate of their worlds hang in the balance and they have to make a choice? *** She had no idea how long she had been sleeping for but she woke up to the sound of someone sniffing. She was drowsy so she paid not much attention to it but then it continued, then she heard the voice again, “Lavender, you use lavender for your hair. How have I never sniffed your hair before?", the sniffing continued. The sound reverberated through the caves, whilst she felt the vibrations on his chest where she lay, but she did not need that to know whose voice it belonged to. It was deep but not hoarse, somehow it was powerful and soothing at the same time, it was the voice of a god, one that had spoken to her all of these months, one she had replayed over again in her head till it was ingrained in her memory. “Dragomir…”, she whispered in a teary voice, she proceeded to stand up but he held on to a part of her hair and was sniffing it. When he noticed her staring at him, he stopped and stared back at her as if she had just caught him trying to steal from the cookie jar. “Was that creepy?”, he asked.

In the middle of the night, my smurf account gets added into a group chat called "lucky draw group". The rule of the group chat is rather weird. Whoever gets their hands on the lucky draw that's titled "lucky winner" must reveal their deepest and most shocking secret. I intend to watch the entire drama at first. But that's when a female user named Evie Sachs suddenly posts in the group chat. "My husband has always thought that he's the children's actual father. The truth is, he's not." Everyone in the group chat is quick to spam the chat with laughing emojis. "Miss, you can't just come up with a story that far-fetched without any logic!" "That's a really ridiculous story! Do you seriously take for all men to be idiots?" "We demand photos as proof!" Evie uploads a few photos of her sleeping with other men as well as the dates of her children's birth. The moment I glance at the birthdays, my hand goes slack, causing the milk bottle to fall to the floor. My daughters actually share the same birthdays as Evie's children!

I have a severe case of logorrhea. Only speaking makes me feel alive. My classmates all call me a freak, but Marvin Britt is the only one willing to listen to me. One day, I bring some homemade soup over to see him, only to catch him holding his junior's hand. "Lexie, your voice is so lovely, unlike my wife at home. She sounds like a squawking duck. It's exhausting." My hands shake so violently that I drop the thermal flask. The commotion angers a nearby madman, who forces a bottle of boiling water down my throat. With my mouth full of blood and blisters, I realize I need proof. I send Marvin—a lawyer—a frantic voice note to accompany me to the police station for evidence. Marvin shoots back a single word—"Noted". Of course. He doesn't even listen to it, as usual. He used to reply to everything I said with voice notes at least a minute long. But we hit the seven-year itch, and he's sick of my endless talking. Leaving the hospital, I stare at my diagnosis of permanent mutism and laugh bitterly. He must be thrilled. His world is finally quiet.

Jason Hart's mother, Victoria Hart, suffered from Alzheimer's disease, and during her manic episodes, I was the only person she would recognize or tolerate. Today, as Victoria tightly clamped her fingers around my wrist, refusing to let me leave, Jason looked at me with an expression of profound, agonizing conflict. "I already paid for the VIP amusement park passes," he sighed. "I guess I'll just have to let Jake take your spot. What a waste!" I stared down at Victoria's iron grip on my skin, feeling drained. It had become a clockwork routine: the moment Jason and I planned a romantic date, she would suffer a sudden, debilitating medical emergency. Because I felt morally obligated to stay behind and care for her, our mutual friends took turns stepping in to accompany him so his plans wouldn't fall through. My best friend went with him to catch the sunrise up in the mountains. His brother, Jake Hart, accompanied him to Disneyland. His buddy went with him on a weekend camping trip in the wilderness. But today, I accidentally discovered a group chat on Victoria's phone. It was called "Susan's Guardian Crew." Susan Jennings was Jason's ex-girlfriend. I tapped into the logs and saw the latest message. Jason: [Susan's doing a lot better. Mom, thanks for keeping Ellie occupied with those episodes.] Victoria: [Don't worry about us. Just focus on keeping Susan happy. I've got things handled here.] She then proceeded to tag the entire group: [Everyone, keep your stories straight. Do not blow our cover!] All the familiar people replied: [Got it.] My hands shook as I set the phone down. Hot tears splashed onto the screen, reflecting my pathetic expression. For five years, every date that belonged to me had gone to another woman. And the most humiliating part? The entire world was in on the joke, while I was the only clown kept in the dark.

My little sister Willa? Always played the noble princess—even during the freaking apocalypse. She was pregnant and still trying to look like some graceful queen. I told her to end it. Safer that way. She slapped me. "Shut up. How can you be so heartless?" Meanwhile, I skipped meals so she and her rescue-pet gang could eat. When I collapsed from hunger, she snorted. "Drama queen. Think of it as a free weight-loss plan." I dragged her to the base, the safe zone, and nearly died doing it. She snatched the last of my rations. "The baby and I are good. Give the rest away." I died from my injuries—frozen, starving, forgotten. Willa? She got crowned a saint. Even landed the baby daddy—the Deputy Governor—and kicked off her perfect little fairytale. Then I woke up. Back to the moment she asked me to swear I'd protect her and the baby. This time, I laughed in her face. "Die for all I care."