I have never waited in line to get the book as soon as it was released. I have never gone to a midnight premiere. I don't own Hogwarts robes, Gryffindor or otherwise. And yet somehow I get the feeling that this inner dying of mine, while not unique, is most certainly rare - even among those who waited past midnight, who own scarves and hats and wands. I didn't go to the midnight premiere - I watched it a month later. And now that I have, there is a part of me that wishes I hadn't.
It's not just seven books, not just eight movies, not just countless works of fanart and fanfiction and goodness knows what else. My skeptical friend, the one who tells me I''m just building a fantasy reality for myself, and that I need to get over it, could never understand. It's not that it's a global phenomenon either. It's that it's magical.
I started watching the final movie with much the same attitude I'd had while watching Deathly Hallows part 1, as well as many of the others - picking apart each conversation, internally moaning when I could remember the exact words they should have said and didn't. The popcorn stung my mouth, and I kept chewing, complaining about details, and dying a little inside because it was ending. It really was ending.
The tears came and left at "always". From that moment - as horrendously late as it was - the popcorn sat untouched. No more thoughts about "I wonder what this looks like without the 3D glasses", no more analyzing the soundtrack. I watched.
I sat through the credits - all of them. My head was starting to ache a bit from the white letters on black, but I sat there, waiting. And when the Warner Bros. logo appeared - not dark and stylized, as in the beginning, but bright and colorful - I took a picture of it. It then vanished.
I walked out feeling like a ghost. I stepped slowly to the 3D glasses receptacle, slowly dropped the glasses in. I felt like the popcorn bag would slip from my hand. I walked past that idiotic poster that says "Your stubs are immortal. How cool is that?". Nothing is immortal, no one can be. Voldemort learned that the hard way. I was seized by a strange desire to put a little post-it on the sign saying "The Last Enemy That Shall be Destroyed is Death", but decided against it.
The popcorn bag sits on the dining table. Sooner or later, someone will insist that I throw it away. Until then, I'm not touching it. The ticket stub is on my desk, right on top of "Rango" and "Ratatouille". It is unbelievable that something so important and exciting could cause so much pain. I look in the mirror - my hair, dyed red last summer, is noticeably blonder. I was never meant to be a Weasley, only a Californian. Only a day ago I was anticipating re-dyeing it. Today I wonder if I should even bother.
All around my room, I have objects of fandom - Ravenclaw crests, Hogwarts crests, the Deathly Hallows symbol inscribed upon numerous surfaces. Dead objects, now. Only this morning, everything in me was chanting "He will never be gone, not as long as those who remain are loyal to him". Now, suddenly, it's all over.
The internet probably exploded with posts like these over a month ago. I don't understand what I'm going to do now. Anything in my life that was Potter-related - and believe me, that was a lot - doesn't mean anything at all right now, because nothing I do will make the story go on. Nothing I do can make it not end.
It all ends.
It's not just seven books, not just eight movies, not just countless works of fanart and fanfiction and goodness knows what else. My skeptical friend, the one who tells me I''m just building a fantasy reality for myself, and that I need to get over it, could never understand. It's not that it's a global phenomenon either. It's that it's magical.
I started watching the final movie with much the same attitude I'd had while watching Deathly Hallows part 1, as well as many of the others - picking apart each conversation, internally moaning when I could remember the exact words they should have said and didn't. The popcorn stung my mouth, and I kept chewing, complaining about details, and dying a little inside because it was ending. It really was ending.
The tears came and left at "always". From that moment - as horrendously late as it was - the popcorn sat untouched. No more thoughts about "I wonder what this looks like without the 3D glasses", no more analyzing the soundtrack. I watched.
I sat through the credits - all of them. My head was starting to ache a bit from the white letters on black, but I sat there, waiting. And when the Warner Bros. logo appeared - not dark and stylized, as in the beginning, but bright and colorful - I took a picture of it. It then vanished.
I walked out feeling like a ghost. I stepped slowly to the 3D glasses receptacle, slowly dropped the glasses in. I felt like the popcorn bag would slip from my hand. I walked past that idiotic poster that says "Your stubs are immortal. How cool is that?". Nothing is immortal, no one can be. Voldemort learned that the hard way. I was seized by a strange desire to put a little post-it on the sign saying "The Last Enemy That Shall be Destroyed is Death", but decided against it.
The popcorn bag sits on the dining table. Sooner or later, someone will insist that I throw it away. Until then, I'm not touching it. The ticket stub is on my desk, right on top of "Rango" and "Ratatouille". It is unbelievable that something so important and exciting could cause so much pain. I look in the mirror - my hair, dyed red last summer, is noticeably blonder. I was never meant to be a Weasley, only a Californian. Only a day ago I was anticipating re-dyeing it. Today I wonder if I should even bother.
All around my room, I have objects of fandom - Ravenclaw crests, Hogwarts crests, the Deathly Hallows symbol inscribed upon numerous surfaces. Dead objects, now. Only this morning, everything in me was chanting "He will never be gone, not as long as those who remain are loyal to him". Now, suddenly, it's all over.
The internet probably exploded with posts like these over a month ago. I don't understand what I'm going to do now. Anything in my life that was Potter-related - and believe me, that was a lot - doesn't mean anything at all right now, because nothing I do will make the story go on. Nothing I do can make it not end.
It all ends.
