You’re a wizard, Harry! (Spoiler-free.)

So as I promised, I went to see HP7 today. Without passing judgement on the movie, I cried. Hard. In the theater. And yes, I was indeed affected by the events of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2. I’d be lying to say I wasn’t. But what really made me cry?

It’s really over this time. There’s not another midnight release party at Border’s left for me. (And let’s not even get in to the potential liquidation of that company, because that’s another stew of emotional distress entirely.) I’ll never got to another 12:15 AM release of the newest HP movie. It’s over. It’s really over.

I tried to look on the bright side. Pottermore.com will be opening in October…but a big part of me worries that that will just be more bad fanfiction and another place to sell merchandise (not that I object to either of those things, but you know). And hey, in 30 years, I bet they’ll remake the movies! Or at least…kind of remake the movies. There will be more movies. The way there are more Sherlock Holmes movies even though Sir Arthur Conan Doyle has been dead for many a year.

This so called bright side doesn’t really cheer me up. When the 7th book came out, I read it as slowly as I could so I wouldn’t have to face the end of Harry Potter. …I’m pretty bad at endings.

I’ve come to the realization that I’m crying about a lot more than No More Harry Potter. Everything in my life is changing. Ending. I know I shouldn’t think of it that way—rather, I’m just entering a new chapter in my existence, right? Or at least this will be the next book in the series.

But I have to admit that I have trouble thinking of it that way. This is my last year of high school. Soon someone will expect me to be Almost A Grown Up. I’ll go to college. I’ll say good-bye to old friends and old hang outs. It’s the end of ugly pink furniture to sleep on before class starts. It’s the end of sitting on a park bench with my Arizona watermelon juice and discussing a twisted brand of philosophy with my best friend. It’s the end of my bedroom.

I know I’m being ridiculous. That’s the sad part. Everyone changes. Everything changes. It’s not just me and I have no right to whine about it. Maybe, just maybe, changing is part of being one of those homo Sapiens. Humans. But it kind of hurts.

Today, I got an email from Transylvania University. I know it’s probably not where the vampires—or even the transsexual space aliens—go to get their degrees, but I think I’ll look into it anyway. If I’m being forced to grow up, I intend to do it among The Undead.

Noo out.