Reading This Kel Analysis Hurts And This May Be Just Me Getting Overly Emotional At 3am But It Made Me

Reading this Kel analysis hurts and this may be just me getting overly emotional at 3am but it made me realize how we need to talk about the probability of Kel being a glass child. See, you'd think by the name that it's a term that would describe someone as fragile, but it's quite the opposite. It refers to a sibling of someone who has special needs (usually someone with a disabiliy or someone incapable of taking care of themselves). The glass metaphor represents how the sibling is "transparent" in how their needs and emotions may be overlooked due to the attention and resources being focused on the sibling with greater challenges.

And while we all known about the favoritism from Kel's parents through hints in the game like Hero being refered as the most perfect, golden and charming mama's boy (and also through this post from the official OMORI GAME twitter account), it's still hard to see discussion about how Hero's depression may have exarcebated this habit Kel has of putting his own feelings and thoughts on the backburner as to keep things moving forward. Additionally, the "glass" metaphor from glass child can also signify that they may feel pressure in attracting less attention to themselves as possible to avoid adding stress to the family in difficult times. And guess who also expresses in game this fear of making things worse by interfering and showing a coping mechanism of staying distant since no one gave him guidance on how to deal with the situation?

Yeah. Some food for thought. Because that's the thing about Kel's grief, he had to deal with all of that alone. Of course, Aubrey may claim he made new friends in the past 4 years, but it's not something shown outfront like her connection to the hooligans, and you take just one look at Cris and Jay, the few examples of Kel's "new friendships" and you can easily see how they aren't nearly as close to having the connection Kel had with his old friends.

In fact, the first thing you LEARN about real world Kel before even opening the door to him is through a dialogue of Sunny's mom on the phone, where she mentions Kel's desperation to get Sunny out of the house and how he seems lonely. Statement that's later reinforced by Kel's father in his dialogue at the park in the evening of the last day in Faraway Town, his only frame of reference on how to deal with Mari's death was to keep on because that's what she would've wanted, right? Despite Kel being considered the "acceptance" stage of grief by many who play game, just taking a deeper look shows he's not completely over what happened, especially considering how the aftermath of Mari's death changed the type of relationship he had with his own brother and completely cut all of Kel's best friends from his life in a single hit. Notice how Hero is not aware of Aubrey's status as a bully, how her appearance has changed and how her relationship with Sunny, Basil and Kel changed. Or how Basil was being bullied and seemed to be isolating himself, and how out of all the real world protagonists, he's the only one in the group that doesn't acknowledge even once how Sunny hadn't left his house for 4 years, and how he only knows that Sunny's moving because his mom told him about it just before he found and rescued the gang at the lake, or even how Kel and Aubrey haven't had a civilized conversation in almost 4 years and Hero's first instinct is to brush it off as "another typical Aubrey and Kel fight" and urge them to make up already? At first you may think it's because he's been away at college and wouldn't be there to see it, so he logically wouldn't be aware of how bad things are. But Kel is so talkative, and these are people that both brothers always cared about, so wouldn't it make sense that Kel told Hero about these things? Even just mentioning how bitter Aubrey had become lately or how he misses Sunny! But there's none of that.

One time I saw this reddit post on r/OMORI that was something along the lines "What type of things do you guys think were said in Hero and Kel's fight?", and one particular commentor stated that they didn't see the need to elaborate on the topic, as all that's important is that what Kel said was the wrong thing to say in that situation and Hero lashed out in response. And I found myself puzzled because while I DO think it's important to consider how Hero's words may have affected Kel's behavior moving forward, that type of thought collaborates with how Kel's struggles are portrayed in the game. Something that's not the focus, that you only know it's there because you were paying attention. Something unimportant. And it saddens me a lot, because in a game all about the death of this one girl and how it impacted the ones left behind, one of the protagonists with most screentime does not show his grief even once. The only known about his dynamic with Mari being the single Headspace interaction where Mari indulges in Kel's playfulness. And that's it, all we get of them are these scraps. It makes me wonder if Kel allowed himself to properly acknowledge his grief, or if he just want through the motions because he thought it was unimportant, that he wasn't deserving of it. Forever stuck in the Helper's Pardox, afterall... To Mari, Basil was a dear friend, someone who's just as empathetic as her that she felt comfortable to borrow his camera and do flower crowns with.

To Mari, Aubrey was her sister in everything but blood, someone she would take care of and planned to even dye her hair with. To Mari, Hero was the love of her life, the one she knew had stolen her heart by pure charm and she could never think of it getting back.

To Mari, Sunny was her dearest little brother, someone she loved so deeply. But what was Kel to Mari besides her little brothers friend, or even, what was Kel to Mari besides being Hero's annoying little brother? But he's fine. He's just silly! That's all trust guys /j

uh oh sisters! I’m back with more Kel Angst… but more like a Kel Character Study.

I’m sure Kel appreciators are already familiar with my analysis of how Kel thinks people value Mari’s theoretical opinions more than his real ones. But since that was at the end of a longer post which was just a “List of Fun Kel Facts :)” I think I didn’t really get to touch on the fact of why this has come to be.

Someone in the tags of that post wrote that Hero does this too, that the two brothers were raised to be people-pleasers and naturally tend to ignore their own feelings. And I absolutely 100% agree with this!!! But consider now: Kel was the little troublemaker, and Hero was the responsible one. To some degree, I think you can also make an argument as to how Hero’s role as the responsible one allowed Kel to be the troublemaker, and vice versa; whether it was by their own will or not, Kel traded positive attention for more freedom, and Hero did the opposite.

Hero is the one to handle responsibility first, and he’s older, too—so it goes that, inherently, Hero has made the better suggestions of the two of them during their childhood, from hangout ideas to problem solving. Kel is the one that makes the silly suggestions, the one that’s a little less realistic, the one that’s still filled with childish fantasies of Captain Spaceboy and renegade stories.

Until he isn’t. Until he’s grown up a little, until he’s slapped in the face by a tragic death, by a despondent, unresponsive brother—by nobody else knowing what to do any better than him.

So he tries—

“Hey Aubrey! Do you want to come to my birthday party? I know we haven’t really talked, this past year, but—”

“Helloooo, Sunny? It’s time for school, and I heard we’re gonna play basketball during gym! You don’t have to play, I can just shoot hoops and you can watch! I’m getting real good at it, I swear—”

“Morning, Basil! Did you need any help doing gardening stuff? I just wanted to see if anyone was free to hang out, but—”

“Hey Hero. Are you… feeling a bit better today? I was just wondering… if you wanted to go get Gino’s with me. Because I’m hungry, and I think it’d be fun if we went together—”

—and he fails.

“—you want to hold a birthday party? Are you- Are you serious?! Tomorrow’s the day she- and you- I- Did she mean nothing to you?!” (He wanted to distract Aubrey from it. But of course she wouldn’t forget.)

“—oh, Kel, good morning! I’m sorry, but I don’t think Sunny can come see you right now… We’re thinking of homeschooling, but… I’m sure he’ll come out to see you one day.” (School was just an excuse to ask for Sunny. Now what is he supposed to do?)

“—ah, um- I’m- I’m okay! I have to… to, um, check on the m-more delicate plants today so, um— m-maybe not today… I-I’m sorry.” (If he were better at not being clumsy, would Basil still have turned him away?)

“—I’m not hungry, Kel… Not today. It’s late anyway.” (He’s never hungry when Kel asks.)

Kel tries to handle things on his own, and it fails. He is confronted with the fact that, on his own, his ideas really are as stupid as Aubrey used to call them, and as silly as Basil and Sunny used to say they were, and as unrealistic as Hero used to tell him.

And Mari…

“—Hi, Mari. Sorry I couldn’t make it last week. But, uh… I was just wondering… if you… if you could maybe… tell me this is all a bad joke…? Because- they all said you- you did it on purpose, but… but I don’t think you would have wanted this, right…?”

(“Well, Kel! You’ve just made a very convincing point. Now I don’t know who to believe!”)

…

The only person who believed in him, the only one who bothered to indulge his ideas even a little bit, is gone.

And yet, just like when they were younger, the one time things work is—

“Mari wouldn’t have wanted to see you like this, Hero…”

—when Mari steps in.

“…what?”

And again.

“I can’t just leave here knowing that this is the person you’ve become. I mean… What would Mari think?”

“Why do you keep bringing her up?”

Granted, the reactions are always a bit rough. But it’s what makes people react, it’s what gets things to change.

So… yeah. Kel’s opinions don’t matter. They’re not supposed to—they’re supposed to make people laugh, or deadpan, or call him stupid so that he can start bantering and bickering, because it’s familiar, because it’s normal. It makes things a bit difficult if he wants to be all serious, but as always, Mari is there for him when his mind comes up blank.

Until she isn’t. Until Sunny says something, and Basil corroborates it. Until every little success he’s been able to achieve with Mari’s help dissipates like the cheap discount foamer in Sally’s bubble baths. Until Kel isn’t sure what Mari would have wanted.

Until Kel is left with only himself. Mari would have wanted—

—he wants—

—everyone to be happy. Everyone to stick together this time. Everyone to help him figure out what the hell he’s feeling right now. Everyone to help him figure out how to stay together when all he wants is to run. Everyone to come back to the room so they can talk, before they split apart again. Again. Not again. Not again.

But how will he do it without Mari?

Grief (in OMORI)

After unspeakable tragedy, the five friends left behind grieve differently.

A study of Sunny, Basil, Aubrey, Hero, and Kel's grief. Soul-Crushing Angst. Part Fanfiction; Part Analysis. Cross Posted to AO3.

(Warnings for Soul-Crushing Angst, Grief, Depression, Referenced Canonical Character Death, and Heavy Themes. Canon Typical OMORI warnings and MAJOR Omori Spoilers)

Sunny’s grief is quiet. He fades into shadowy corners watching his mother’s wailing with stormy eyes, but he doesn’t make a sound. He hasn’t spoken a word since Mari died—not that he talked much to begin with, but now there’s nothing he could even want to say. He can’t stand speaking to an empty room, waiting for that familiar laugh or the lilted, tinkly voice of his sister that would never come. He’d never hear her voice again, never hear her laugh, never hear the sounds of her piano playing.

The house is quiet without her. There’s no laughter. No music. No sound besides the violent sobbing of his mother. Silence has never been so deafening. He hides in the comfort of his mind where she’ll laugh and talk again, forever because the guilt of knowing why the world’s gone silent is too much for him to bear.

His father thinks him cold and unfeeling because he won’t talk—won’t wail and weep like his mother or his friends, but painful tears struggle free from the corners of his burning eyes. They catch in his eyelashes, trickle down his cheeks—pained but silent. He feels the loss of her like losing a part of himself. It’s more painful than he could ever have the words to explain, so he doesn’t even try. His mother says that talking about it might make him feel better, but he doesn’t feel he has the right to that anymore, not after what he’s done. He silenced Mari and the world along with her, so he silences himself.

(Continues Under the Cut)

*-*-*

Basil’s grief is destructive. It eats him alive from the inside until tears stream out of his bloodshot eyes like a faucet. He weeps unconsolably from the moment he gets up in the morning until he cries himself to sleep at night. He doesn’t think he will ever stop crying. He doesn’t think he deserves to.

Even thinking about Mari brings tears to his eyes to the point where he can’t even remember her—can’t even hold on to the good memories. The pages of his photo album are all colored out now as if that could somehow erase them. He doesn’t feel he deserves them anymore. He doesn’t deserve to remember her happy—to remember her as anything more than contorted, still, and lifeless at the bottom of those stairs or swinging limply in the wind from the limb of that tree outside.

It almost doesn’t feel real. A part of him still wakes up hoping it was all some horrible nightmare, but it wasn’t. It isn’t. Mari’s gone and playing a role in that means he doesn’t deserve to remember her. His grief will destroy him.

*-*-*

Aubrey’s grief is volatile—loud. She cries and screams as if the sounds of her wailing could somehow bring Mari back. But she knows that it won’t. Most days, she feels like she’s falling down a dark, bottomless pit without anything to catch her—without anything to hold onto. She can’t make sense of it—how something like this could happen. Why it would.

Her hands clinch into fists, throw things at walls of her room, pound into her pillow as she screams because she doesn’t have the words for the pain she’s feeling. Then, everything goes quiet, and she weeps.

The weight of a world without Mari is too heavy for her small, trembling shoulders. She’ll have to make them stronger.

*-*-*

Hero’s grief is overwhelming. It crushes him until he can’t breathe. He hasn’t been able to catch his breath since he heard she was gone. He feels like he’s drowning in pitch black darkness—dark water seeping into his nose and mouth if he tries to breathe, drowning out any cry for help he could possibly make. But he doesn’t make them. He doesn’t deserve to—not after he didn’t love her enough. If he had, maybe she’d still be here. The truth that she isn’t constricts and strangles like a chain around his heart, a crushing weight he’ll carry for the rest of his life. He crumbles under it.

Every time he thinks he’s finally stopped crying, the tears keep falling again. He can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t do anything but stare blankly at the ceiling of his room, tortured by guilt, by “what ifs,” by questions of if there was anything he could have done, if there was any way he could have saved her. But he is too weak. He can’t even save himself.

He always believed the sun shined brighter whenever Mari smiled, but he knows that better now because losing her has completely snuffed it out. The world is dark now, and Hero drowns in it.

*-*-*

Kel’s grief is aching like the dulled pain of an old injury when it rains. There’s an empty space in his heart now and it pangs every time he finds himself turning to say something to her or wanting to show her something or tell her a story only to realize that she isn’t there and that she isn’t going to be there ever again.

He doesn’t cry as much as Hero or Aubrey or Basil, and he worries it isn’t enough—worries it means he didn’t care about her enough. But he knows he did. He had to because even if it doesn’t always bring tears to his eyes, something breaks a little in him every time he realizes he’ll never make her laugh or make her smile again.

He tries to think of what would make her happy, if there’s anything he could do to make her happy now. All he can think is that she wouldn’t want another person crying for her, so he tries his best to heal, to remember the good times, and to smile when he thinks of her, even if his smiles are a little bittersweet, a little empty now.

He worries that his friends don’t remember how to be anything but sad and grief-stricken. Worries he’ll never see his brother smile again, will never see Basil without bloodshot, weeping eyes, will never see Aubrey without gritted teeth and clinched fists as she blinks back tears, will never see Sunny again at all. Kel’s grief isn’t just losing Mari—it’s losing everyone. It’s watching them suffer without anything he can do to fix it. Left wondering if any of them will ever truly be happy again. Wondering if they even can be in world without Mari, even when he knows that’s what would make her happy.

He’s never felt so helpless, and maybe that’s what hurts worst of all.

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agentwriter

2 years ago