I solemnly swear that I have been up to no good. As the younger sister of former Southerner columnist Alex Wolfe, I feel the need to follow in her “fangirl” footsteps. We are both proud fans of Harry Potter, The Hunger Games and we consider ourselves “Nerdfighters”— fans of the sibling duo of The Fault in Our Stars author John Green and his brother, Hank Green. Despite my loyalty to these fandoms, I have a few confessions to make. Now that DragonCon has passed, fewer die-hard nerds are around to possibly punish me, I think it would be best to disclose the complete list of sins I committed this summer against various fandoms.

Dear Veronica Roth,

First, I am extremely impressed with how you wrote a bestseller dystopian trilogy while still in college. Please go easy on me when I tell you that although I read and loved Divergent, I have yet to see the movie or finish reading the sequel, Insurgent. This may be sort  your fault, as unlike Ms. Willoughby, you did not require for me to read over the summer.

Dear John Green,

I confess to giggling multiple times when I heard the racking sobs of other female moviegoers while watching the advanced screening of The Fault in Our Stars. In my defense, it was a little hard to be fully invested, as I  knew that you and the stars of the movie would soon be mere feet away from me during the Q&A session afterwards.

Dear J.K. Rowling,

I apologize for not logging onto Pottermore to read your story about Harry Potter as an adult. Yes, I know that three years ago I woke up at 5 a.m. to get early access to the website. Yes, I know that I took 200 pictures and shot videos when I visited the Harry Potter Studios in London. But I also know that there is probably a fanfiction story somewhere on the Internet that is longer and won’t waste nearly as much battery on my laptop when I read it.

Dear Supernatural fans everywhere (including you, Alex),

I’m sorry I ever agreed to watch the first episode. All I wanted was to shut you up so I would not be dragged into the inescapable pit that is Supernatural. Instead of distancing myself, though, my horror regarding the fans has only grown. I don’t understand how you can be fiercely devoted to this particular paranormal mystery show. There are nine seasons! Nine! 195 60-minute long episodes! How are you still watching this show? When Supernatural ends, my only request is for you to use your scary, obsessive powers for good. If you have this much patience and loyalty to a television show, imagine what you could do to help our society.

And finally, Dear every human being who does not live underground,

I am sorry that I still have not seen any Star Wars movies. I’ll get to it at some point.

Now that I have confessed to all of my sins, I hope to be forgiven by my fellow geeks and nerds. I also realize that I have basically described the extent of my nerdiness to the entire readership of The Southerner. But for now, mischief managed.