A Door That No Longer Opens

[king reza the great]

 

Lately I’ve felt something slowly slipping out of my hands… something I never thought I’d lose. 0 A.D. wasn’t just a game to me—it was a place where time paused for a moment, where the world outside couldn’t reach me, where I could forget everything and just be.

But living in Iran means living inside a cage built by sanctions, restrictions, and barriers that keep tightening around even the smallest joys. Things that should be simple—like entering a game, joining a match, sharing a few peaceful minutes with others—turn into struggles that wear you down. And now, access to the game has become so difficult, so unstable, that it feels like a door slowly closing, no matter how much I try to keep it open.

It hurts in a way I cannot easily describe.
To watch something that once brought me comfort fade away.
To realize I can no longer enter the world that once felt like a home made of pixels and imagination.

And maybe the hardest part is knowing that I wasn’t always the perfect player.
I made mistakes. I wasn’t always as good, as patient, or as helpful as I could have been.
For that, I’m truly sorry.

To everyone who played with me, taught me, laughed with me, or simply shared a moment on the battlefield—thank you.
Thank you for the fun, the challenges, the conversations, the small escapes from reality. You’ll never know how much those moments meant to me.

I won’t say the word “goodbye.”
Some things are too painful to name.
But if there’s a quiet sadness between these lines… it’s because a part of me will always remain in the places I can no longer reach.

Thank you for everything.