From my early days of roaming around the internet, using it to scroll through pictures that other people found funny on sites like iwastesomuchtime.com (it’s still alive ‘n [where’s the proper place for that apostrophe?] kicking, in case you are curious) and imgur, I remember this one image. It was an outline of an old-ish man sitting on a pile of books on a yellow background and said something like “That sad feeling when you finish a book and can’t bring yourself to move on quite yet.” I’ve seen many variations on that same theme—when you read a really great book that you don’t want to end, sometimes closing that back cover and setting the book back on the shelf leaves a hole inside you.
(#2 has the actual picture I’m thinking of; it has a little more on it than what I remember)
I’m feeling that same way right now, except it’s because I finished Kingdom Hearts 3 yesterday.
For the sake of time and all of your interest, let’s just say that thanks to my lovely “regular” cousins the Huizengas, I and my siblings all have one thing in common: that we love this video game series that mashes Disney films into an original storyline where the characters focus on hearts and the true power of friendship. It sounds like a trainwreck, but I love it so much that in my junior year of high school I forced my classmates to watch a clip of it and discuss it as a text in my AP Language and Comp class. Even as I’ve grown out of video games for the most part, I can’t seem to let this series go.
I can’t tell you exactly when I played Kingdom Hearts 1 and 2, only that I remember Kristin and Cami giving the first two games to us in 2007 or 2008, Lars opening 358/2 Days on Christmas Day 2009, and me being mad that we couldn’t play the upcoming game Birth By Sleep in 2010 since it was released on the PlayStation Portable. All of that to say, this series has been an investment for me, which came to the end of its first arc on January 29th, 2019 when Kingdom Hearts III released. I’m certain you heard me mention it—I even gave a shout-out in my introductory remarks to all my students who I met a week later. I had to wait until Lars finished the game (AND the secret boss), hold off while Anni played through the game over spring break, and grade the paragraphs I collected two weeks ago before I allowed myself to sit down on March 30th, 2019, and start my playthrough in earnest. By April 3rd, I had watched the end credits.
I could go on and on about the themes woven throughout the games, the cheesy dialogue that somehow still feels meaningful, and the wealth of characters who I’ve grown to love, but I’ll spare you. Point is, I finally know what I’ve been waiting 10-odd years to know, and I don’t know how to feel about it. I like having all the answers (kinda), but I feel this sadness that the journey’s over now. The plot points are wrapped up, the enemies are fought, and the dust has settled, but I feel less satisfied than I did when I was wondering about my favorite character’s fate. You could chalk this up to bad storytelling, but I don’t think that’s the case here. I think finishing this game is closing another chapter in my life.
I’m sad because this is the last connection to my gamer middle school self, who wanted to tell people that she was a gamer girl who loved Pokemon and RPGs because she believed that was what made her different and worth listening to. Completing this series severs me from the girl who watched clips of Kingdom Hearts set to music because they helped her process and connect with her own emotions. It’s also another strand threading back to Mom that’s slipping through my fingers—another reminder that I’m continuing to grow further from the person who she knew me as. And while a video game may not seem like that big a deal to who I am, it’s another part of me that she doesn’t get to see me fully synthesize into my adult life. The conclusion of this game reminds me that as time keeps running by, I’m leaving behind the Alex that Mom knew interest by interest, inch by inch, piece by piece. I know I need to grow and that I want to grow, but it would have been neat for her to see that growth too.
Finishing my favorite game series feels like yet another marker of my evolving sense of self, and it seems to have surfaced the sadness that comes with the recognition that I've changed. A part of me loathes to leave Kingdom-Hearts-loving Alex, but I am not defined by video games as I once was. I will always have a place in my heart for key-wielding anime-looking characters and their various journeys across the Disney worlds, but I feel this adolescent obsession fading as I mentally close the book of Kingdom Hearts. I’ve finally learned how to love and digest media without the need to own it all or know it all which ate at me as a middle and high schooler. Maybe that’s a recognition of my own human finiteness; maybe that’s just me growing up.
(#2 has the actual picture I’m thinking of; it has a little more on it than what I remember)
I’m feeling that same way right now, except it’s because I finished Kingdom Hearts 3 yesterday.
For the sake of time and all of your interest, let’s just say that thanks to my lovely “regular” cousins the Huizengas, I and my siblings all have one thing in common: that we love this video game series that mashes Disney films into an original storyline where the characters focus on hearts and the true power of friendship. It sounds like a trainwreck, but I love it so much that in my junior year of high school I forced my classmates to watch a clip of it and discuss it as a text in my AP Language and Comp class. Even as I’ve grown out of video games for the most part, I can’t seem to let this series go.
I can’t tell you exactly when I played Kingdom Hearts 1 and 2, only that I remember Kristin and Cami giving the first two games to us in 2007 or 2008, Lars opening 358/2 Days on Christmas Day 2009, and me being mad that we couldn’t play the upcoming game Birth By Sleep in 2010 since it was released on the PlayStation Portable. All of that to say, this series has been an investment for me, which came to the end of its first arc on January 29th, 2019 when Kingdom Hearts III released. I’m certain you heard me mention it—I even gave a shout-out in my introductory remarks to all my students who I met a week later. I had to wait until Lars finished the game (AND the secret boss), hold off while Anni played through the game over spring break, and grade the paragraphs I collected two weeks ago before I allowed myself to sit down on March 30th, 2019, and start my playthrough in earnest. By April 3rd, I had watched the end credits.
I could go on and on about the themes woven throughout the games, the cheesy dialogue that somehow still feels meaningful, and the wealth of characters who I’ve grown to love, but I’ll spare you. Point is, I finally know what I’ve been waiting 10-odd years to know, and I don’t know how to feel about it. I like having all the answers (kinda), but I feel this sadness that the journey’s over now. The plot points are wrapped up, the enemies are fought, and the dust has settled, but I feel less satisfied than I did when I was wondering about my favorite character’s fate. You could chalk this up to bad storytelling, but I don’t think that’s the case here. I think finishing this game is closing another chapter in my life.
I’m sad because this is the last connection to my gamer middle school self, who wanted to tell people that she was a gamer girl who loved Pokemon and RPGs because she believed that was what made her different and worth listening to. Completing this series severs me from the girl who watched clips of Kingdom Hearts set to music because they helped her process and connect with her own emotions. It’s also another strand threading back to Mom that’s slipping through my fingers—another reminder that I’m continuing to grow further from the person who she knew me as. And while a video game may not seem like that big a deal to who I am, it’s another part of me that she doesn’t get to see me fully synthesize into my adult life. The conclusion of this game reminds me that as time keeps running by, I’m leaving behind the Alex that Mom knew interest by interest, inch by inch, piece by piece. I know I need to grow and that I want to grow, but it would have been neat for her to see that growth too.
Finishing my favorite game series feels like yet another marker of my evolving sense of self, and it seems to have surfaced the sadness that comes with the recognition that I've changed. A part of me loathes to leave Kingdom-Hearts-loving Alex, but I am not defined by video games as I once was. I will always have a place in my heart for key-wielding anime-looking characters and their various journeys across the Disney worlds, but I feel this adolescent obsession fading as I mentally close the book of Kingdom Hearts. I’ve finally learned how to love and digest media without the need to own it all or know it all which ate at me as a middle and high schooler. Maybe that’s a recognition of my own human finiteness; maybe that’s just me growing up.