[MeechMunchie]

Oh my God.

Oh my fucking God.

How do these things always happen when I'm away. Okay, I was gone quite a while, but there I was thinking I wouldn't miss too much.

But I have missed something massive, and I'm gonna miss something else a hell of a lot more.

Shit.

It's always moments like these, moments where I'm genuinely confused, or worried, or frightened, or spluttering under some other wave of fucked-up emotions, that I screw up. The points when I fail. And I have failed here.

Because I can think of nothing to say.

Nothing moving, nothing powerful.

Not even anything funny.

Just rambling thoughts, a live feed from my reeling brain, spaced out to look enough like a wall of text that people will think this took a lot of effort and consideration.

But at least it's honest. I'll just say what I think, without any spin for effect, or fancy words, or any of the things I'd like to be in this last anticlimactic exchange.

I like you, Molluck's Assistant. I think you are an honest, intellegent person who has never let his flaws hold him back, nor ever let his strengths make him cocky. You have remained, in a world of self-centred egotocracy, humble. And I think that's great.

Life has thrown more than your fair share of shit your way, but you're out there every day, keeping all the cogs spinning, doing proper, difficult work, taxing your brain and your muscles, breaking your bloody back to make ends meet. I don't even care that you drink. Even if you are a genuine alcoholic, you fucking earned that booze. And even if you are, I know you'll put the effort in to fix that too.

And I know you have your little lapses of judgement, and yeah, you can snap and rant and whine 'til your cows come home.* Newsflash: So does bloody everybody. I've been there. Every person who has ever been respected here for their trolling has. In the majority of the time your rants, heated as they may have been, were based on solid points, or at least aimed at people who were genuinely being annoying. But that does not excuse your mistakes.

You did.

Even in those times, you still put us to shame, by virtue of your openess and ready honesty in admitting where you crossed the line. Every splash of misdirected venom was always followed by an apology, or an explanation, or at least a less harsh repost. You may have lost those battles, my dear, but you were, and still are, most certainly winning the war.

I believe you are a good person. And I can easily believe that you are psychotic. How else could a person of such fury remain, in nine-tenths of his time, such a calm, intellegent, level-headed person? You have a genuine excuse. That's more than I can say. I'm just a bit of a dick.

And yet, in all my time here, I myself can remember falling out with you only once. And you know what? I can't even remember what it was about. True story bro. But I also remember so much more, so many ridiculous tangents of conversation, so many evenings spent chuckling at my monitor, so many saucy exchanges. By your words I have been entertained, amused, berated, humbled, enlightened, reassured, complimented, propositioned, trolled, moved, saddened and inspired. The occasional emotional pep-talk in PMs was all I could hope to give back.

Here, Molluck's Assistant, you were a great many things to a great many people. To me, you were something so complex and convoluted, yet so simple all the same.

You were my friend.

I am as cautious as the next man when it comes to declaring such things across the internet, but we've communicated outside the forums. We've chatted on Steam, we've emailed, we've sent each other birthday presents, for a while we even ran a forum together. As such, I feel I have earned the right - which I treat with more respect, honour, and indeed drama than most people - to refer to you by your real name. Just like we were friends in our offline lives. Because you have well and truly been part of mine.

Goodbye, Stevie Salt. You beautiful, sexy man.

I'll be in all the usual places if you ever need me. But I know a strongwilled, self-reliant individual like you probably won't. If only we could all be so much.

I respect your descision, and though I hope I understand I doubt that I ever truly could without stepping into your shoes. It only saddens me that in this final, anticlimctic exchange, it's not even an exchange at all.

Maybe, someday, if you feel that the day is good, or perhaps in a fit of nostalgia, you'll come back to your own farewell and read this.

Or maybe, just maybe, you've enjoyed my company as much as I've enjoyed yours, and you've been waiting for me.

Never stop. Never concede. Never shave.

*Looks like I managed to get a joke in there after all. Whoop-de-FUCKING-do.

tl;dr? Get The Fuck Off My Land.