Dear anthropomorphised gestalt entity of wargaming websites,
It came to me when I woke up this morning, the kind of fully-formed conviction there was no trace of the night before, which is so vivid that you can't ignore it. I'm breaking up with you.
I think the relationship has gone somewhere bad. I spend hours each day staring wistfully at you, tempted by your sweet promises of wargaming, but none are fulfilled. I even look at you on that devil of a new phone while on the john at work. You enable me in buying new things but distract me from ever painting anything. We never play anymore.
I just haven't got the willpower to ignore you when we're together. Sure, I stuck to not buying new dudes for all of 2012, but now we're right back to where we were. I can't focus on any one project long enough to finish, or even start it, before you tempt me with the next set of toy soldiers. I know I need to work on my self discipline, but I'm not going to say that it's not you, baby, it's me, because it's both of us.
I'll look to see if you're around once I've done the half-finished regiment of undead WSS Spanish navy, the mummies, the crusaders to fight them, the new GB Arabs I'm converting to modern bad guys (the research for which probably got my browsing looked at by big brother), the styrofoam from the printer that I want to make into a bunker, those last five ing zombies to finish that unit, the fifth edition archers with fourth edition goblin hats and Mordheim faces that I was making into bandits, and the scratch-built Lovecraftian things I keep at my parents' house and work on when I visit them. I think that's generous, considering that there are also the undead ashigaru assembled and basecoated, the tricorn-wearing skeleton spearmen, and the 90% finished steam tank (and then the steam punk project is finished!), as well as the unstarted projects: the boxes containing the greek undead centaurs kitbash, WSS Spanish navy cannons and mortars, the Cadians for near-future Mexican federales, the shock troops for Mexican marines, the 1:700 Napoleonic frigates, the Australian goldrush stuff, the polystyrene from the dishwasher that I want to make into a Mexican adobe fort, that laser-cut church kit that Richard and Stacey gave me for Christmas long ago, all the Mesoamerican pyramid kits, the dryads, the Iron Man mk.I toys I bought for pulp iron giants, the giant box of Reaper Bones that will be coming in a few short months, the giant box of Mirliton stuff I bought in Italy, and the literally hundreds of other figures I bought for bits or vaguely-defined projects that I can't even recall.
Yes, internet, that's how you use 'literally' – when you mean 'in actual fact'. Also, stop starting your first paragraphs with 'so', as it is a conjuction – it's supposed to come after something. The word 'of' comes between 'couple' and any pluralised noun; you wouldn't say 'a bag things' so don't say 'a couple things'. Also, just look at the people you have whining about utter , forcing their opinions on others about how intolerable boobies are. I guess I'm telling you to also work on yourself while I'm gone.
Let's make this last night together count. I'll buy those new resin AKs from Victoria miniatures for the modern bad guys. I'll watch the CAV kickstarter and pledge for ten or so of those Gnomic things if they get unlocked, and dream about painting half in desert camo and half in snow camo, with the Tamiya pearl white spray for the bodies and with that green-flecked extremely-fine white glitter from the craft shop for snow on the bases. But then, in the morning, we say our goodbyes, I'll delete your bookmarks, and I'll get a little snooze thing next to my TMP name.