Extra 1: Missing Those Who Once Were

Every day, I wore a set of gear that was cool in name only—until transmogrification became a thing, I constantly had to be careful not to get cut by the mysterious sharp protrusions on my own shoulders.

Sometimes I would wake up to find that Hogger had become a king, Gamon had turned into a tough guy, and even Thrall had jumped on the bandwagon and started wearing cloth armor.

Sometimes I would wake up to find that, for some reason, warriors seemed even weaker than they were yesterday.

Your screen is twice as wide, your RAM is eight times larger, and your CPU is faster by some unknown factor, yet the time you spend online grows shorter with each passing day.

The C key remains ironclad while the O key flows like water, and cooldowns sit idle week after week.

The carved railings and jade steps should still be there, yet the people are gone and the faces have changed.

Until one day, you simply left, and never came back.

I know that everyone is born lonely, it's just that some people seem to be lonelier than others.

I watch as countless passersby in my life arrive quietly and depart quietly, only to turn my head and forget the faces of most of them.

On this boundless planet, I search for others, and I also search for another version of myself that resembles you.

I constantly converse with myself, attempting to find traces of happiness in the past.

I wander repeatedly through those nowhere-to-go longings deep within my memories; sometimes I think of you because I am helpless, and sometimes thinking of you makes me feel even more helpless.

I do not know where you are going, but I want you to know.

I want you to know that the scenery in Ashenvale is no longer the same and the faces have aged, but the starry sky still shines just as bright.

I want you to know that the Horde has welcomed the pandaren, and the boss has entered the dungeon, leaving the status of the "favored son" in jeopardy.

I want you to know that Warcraft has returned to Outland, and even we, a group of eternal penniless mercenaries, have finally gained our own territory: the Garrison.

I want you to know that grasping the happiness right in front of you is sometimes more important than chasing after distant dignity.

I want you to know that time passes like a white horse galloping past a crack in the wall; you and I may eventually no longer be the you and I of that time, but whenever we are together, we are forever the "us" of that time.