So, I have a complicated relationship with Gravity Falls nowadays. Gravity Falls was my best friend for a good near-decade. I researched the show in great depth (both its canon lore and real-life history), had multiple daily rituals and routines (checking updates on the fandom, keeping journals documenting things GF-related, etc.), did multiple creative projects (like building a doll’s house of the twin’s attic or compiling every publicised event where Alex Hirsch spoke about the show, for example) My contributions to the fandom, whether they be artistic, written, conversational, or shrine-al, are scattered across thousands of posts on at least a dozen platforms over the last 11 years.
I’m not sure why I spent every waking second of so many years thinking about how I could come up with new ways to express my appreciation for the show, or even where the sheer amount of passion my appreciation came from. I think it might’ve been a raw admiration of the show’s interactive nature and courage to address heavier topics, but it could also just be my tendency to be distressingly obsessive.
But for a while now, my life’s took an interesting (?) turn, and for the last four-ish years, whenever I think of Gravity Falls I am reminded of how disconnected I feel today from the person I was when I discovered this show. This show, that I spent so long loving, appreciating, endlessly thinking about, has slowly become second to the numerous clusterfucks I’ve found myself in these past however-many years. So I’ve distanced myself from the fandom for the last two or three years, trying to forget the disappointment I feel when I’m reminded of this show, and in essence, what I used to be.
But when I realised that 15th February, 2026 would mark an ENTIRE DECADE since the show ended, I knew I had to acknowledge it.
I might not be the same person I was then, but I still remember kneeling by the TV, crying at the jumbled, raw mixture of emotions the finale of this show was able to convey. I had spent years before then coming to love the show, its secrets, its whimsy, its ability to make me feel these almost-primal emotions. So I think I owe it to the show and myself, both who I am now and was then, to make another contribution in memory of the show. Not as grand as a $3,000 shrine-room, but I hope you’ll all still appreciate it.
I love you and still miss you, my weird old friend.