
I didn’t expect Stranger Things to get under my skin the way it did. I started watching it casually in mid-December last year, after a good friend insisted that I would enjoy the fact that it was set in the 1980’s. Fast forward to last month, and I had finished the entire series—completely immersed, emotionally invested, and honestly a little stunned by how deeply it pulled me in.
What makes Stranger Things so addictive isn’t just the nostalgia or the monsters—it’s the characters. They don’t feel like characters you watch; they feel like people you follow. Eleven, especially, became the emotional anchor of the show for me. Her journey—from a frightened, isolated kid with terrifying powers to someone trying to understand identity, friendship, and choice—felt raw and human despite the supernatural framing. Every time she struggled, it felt personal. Every victory felt earned.
Then there’s Eddie Munson, who completely blindsided me. Loud, unapologetic, misunderstood—and unexpectedly brave. Eddie represents that outsider energy so many people recognize in themselves. His arc is one of those rare television moments where a character arrives late in a series and still leaves a permanent mark. You don’t just remember Eddie; you feel him. (SPOILER ALERT HERE) I actually cried when Eddie met his demise, especially because Dustin was so overcome with grief while watching his friend die.
Bob Newby is another quiet emotional gut punch. He wasn’t flashy or powerful—just kind, supportive, and trying his best. That made his fate hit harder than I was prepared for. Stranger Things is ruthless that way: it makes you care deeply, then reminds you that safety is never guaranteed in Hawkins.
And of course, looming over everything, there’s Vecna—a villain who feels genuinely oppressive. He’s not just a monster chasing people down hallways; he’s psychological, invasive, personal. Vecna weaponizes trauma and guilt, which makes him far more unsettling than the early-season demogorgons. Those creatures were terrifying in a visceral, survival-horror sense—pure nightmare fuel—but Vecna crawls into your head and stays there. The fact that Vecna, Henry Creel, 001, and Mr. Whatsit are all the same person, and portrayed so brilliantly by the mesmerizing Jamie Campbell Bower, makes this character even better.
That’s the real magic of Stranger Things: how immersive it is for people like me who get lured in without realizing what’s happening. You don’t just binge it—you inhabit it. The world expands episode by episode until Hawkins feels familiar, the Upside Down feels oppressive, and the stakes feel real. By the time I finished last month, it wasn’t just a show I’d watched. It was an experience I’d lived through.
And honestly? I’m still not fully out of the Upside Down.










