Dear World of Warcraft,

I will never love you more than I do right now, this moment, when I’m still a noob — marveling at your newness, enjoying your not-EQness, thinking you’re wonderful in every way. I sprint off to complete your dumass quests with a skip in my step; I cheerfully interact with every NPC; I play with all your options, tenderly, never too harsh with the textures, my love.

You must know it’s doomed between us. You know this can’t last. Nerfs will divide us. Server restarts will try my patience. I will tire of your NPC prattle; MY GOD, how much social interaction can one man fake take? Leveling you will become a chore.

I will call you “out of touch”. I may call you The New Nexus of Evil. I may even cite your past (ahem) indiscretions in player relations. You will label me “demanding”, “unreasonable” even. I’m a cheat, a liar, a thief, you will say.

I’ve been down this road before with other loves. At most, it was three, I swear to you.

O GOD, it was at least two DOZEN. But they meant nothing to me! I’ve never felt this way before (since a year ago).

We’re doomed. But right now, let’s enjoy the moment. I will never love you like this again.

Your servant,
Foton