A Letter from Us

Hey. It's been a long time, hasn't it? I'm not sure we've met... in fact I know for a fact that we haven't. You see, I'm one of your characters. You made me. In fact, I'm all of your characters at once. In a sense, I am you. You know, you always give me such great advice about where to go and what to do. I figure it's about time I returned the favor.

I know you pretty well. I mean, look at all of the thoughts you put into me! Ideas of nobility, of heroism, but also there is a decided sense of being above authority. I am, after all, a noble thief. I am a hero, I am a captain. I'm a paranoid Irish recluse, a soldier from ages past. I'm a stowaway child looking for work, a misanthropic genius of 19 years.

But I've never done anything great that hasn't resulted in my death. You keep killing me off. Granted, my story isn't done by a long shot, but there are happy endings if you look in the right places. I think you're forgetting that.

You know, I want the same things you do. I want to be loved, I want to be cared about. And you know that if I've got even an ounce of the determination which you have I'll make that happen. I guess my question for you is, why do you think you're doomed to suffer sometimes when you make us perform such great feats?

If you made us, then how is it that we can exceed you in our accomplishments? Okay, okay. Maybe you can't break into a maximum security government compound, or create a psuedoelectrolose dimensional travel machine, but you can help people. You can inspire them. You've already begun.

So don't give up. Keep going, even when it seems like nobody cares. Because we care. Because we're trapped in a world that will never exist, and you're the only one of us that can make a difference.

Because you're real and we're not. And no matter how good we are in here, we'll never matter as much as you.

So fight on for us.