Hey. It’s me. How have you been?
It’s been 8 months since I saw you last. I was just thinking about you the other day. I was talking to a friend about you, and he told me you had won an important award; that you’re finally getting the recognition for your hard work. Congratulations. You definitely deserve it.
He also told me he was about to spend some time with you. That he’d be spending the whole night with you. Is it true? After all the time we spent together? After everything we’ve been through?
I can’t get over it. I can’t get over YOU.
Every moment spent with you was exhilarating. Remember standing atop that snow capped mountain in silence, looking out over the foggy forest? I’ll never forget it: My heart pounding out my chest like I was in the thick of battle, my ear drums pounding like the sounds of swords clashing; like some grand symphony whose rondo heralds only death.
I thought those moments we shared were special.
I’m sorry I kept comparing you to my exes. I’m sorry I confused you for them. I thought you were like them, but you weren’t. You were better.
Your pacing is better. You were infinitely more beautiful. They never made my heart pound the way you did. You were infinitely more precise, more EXACT, and always so responsive to my needs. They never satisfied me like you did.
You’re so much more interesting, so much more unique, than all the rest. You had everything. I’d die twice just to see you again.
I know that sometimes things got out of hand. Voices were raised, things were thrown, and new words invented. I realize now those were my fault, not yours. If only I had managed my time better. If only I had seen what you needed from me. I just needed to be better.
It wasn’t you, it was me.
You showed me what I had to do; over and over again. It felt like you were beating me down, mocking me. I felt like I deserved it. I felt stupid, slow, and clunky. I realize now you were just trying to teach me. You demanded music, and at first all I could provide was noise.
You were so beautiful, you didn’t even have to try. Your aesthetic drew me in. Just the site of you set my world on fire. You had an air of mystery I could never put my thumb on. You were downright magical at times.
I’m so lucky for the time we spent together. You were the music in my droll life. You elevated the atmosphere until I felt like I couldn’t breath. I’m shaking, even as I write, thinking of your ability to create a pure, cinematic explosion of pleasure.
We’ve been to so many places together. Seen so many things, from the most beautiful to the most horrific. Villages burning to the ground; foggy, haunted forests; deep, dark caves filled with the forgotten remnants of the sins of men best forgotten; poisonous lakes; waterfalls that bring eternal life. From the deepest depths in the earth, to the lakes, rivers, and forests. Fighting ghosts, men, monks, giant snakes, headless apes, and divine dragons in the heavens themselves.
We grew together. You taught me. Pushed me through impudent rage and brick walls, you taught me to move like a ballerina. A ballerina ninja, dancing from enemy to enemy, leaving a myriad of corpses in the wake of our deadly dance.
You taught me to move with the inexorability and the fluidity of wind. You were a dance whose steps I came to know intimately. Every step burned into me. I’ll never forget them, I promise. You were a teacher and a friend; a mountain to overcome.
You’ll never have to give me dragon rot again I swear.
The feelings you evoked in me I haven’t felt in years. Each successful shinobi execution, each severed immortality, instilled emotions of supreme satisfaction.
You were a drug and I the addict. I always wanted more. I still want more.
No matter how many times you would strike me down, make me fall, I’d come back begging for more.
That’s why I had to let you go, Sekiro. I know it would be selfish of me to keep you from the world. I’m glad you were awarded Game of the Year. You really were a masterpiece.
Maybe I’ll stop by and visit if I’m in the neighborhood. You’ve always had this way of bringing me back to life.
P.S. F#%k. You.