Dear PS3,

Though you may be inanimate and will never read nor conceive the thought of this letter, I write it regardless. 

I have known you for the best part of 8 years now yet you haven’t aged one bit. As your creators intended, you have maintained your sleek black polish that I have admired since I nestled you out of your cardboard crib in the summer of ’08. You are a quiet creature, not asking for much attention, yet receiving it all through your gorgeous displays of the games you play. My hands have grown and yet, somehow, your controllers still manage to nurture my hands with the same comfortable grip I have always felt from them. Yes, many months have seen you collect dust, but your temporary comatose was nothing more than a well deserved rest from the playful childhood you gave to me.

You are the definition of a revolution. A digital enchantment illuminated by 1080 pixels and the Blu Ray masterclass. You are nothing less than a behemoth of your time, and your legacy continues in the form of your child, your fourth reincarnation.

You have stood the test of time. You stare in the face of planned obsolescence and you laugh. Your metal organs remain firmly protected by their impenetrable plastic flesh that encases them so that they can work just as flawlessly as the day they begun.

For my childhood and the friendships you helped form, thank you.

Lots of Love,
Matthew. X