I am a junkie and it is my mom’s fault. She is the one who introduced me into this new world. Have you ever tried it? she asked. Oh, come on, you have to! Its fun! I resisted. I said it is not really my thing. She insisted - even offered to procure it and set me up. It will be your birthday present, she said. Before I knew what was happening, she had made all the arrangements. That was 10 years ago. And in the time between then and now, I have used almost daily.
Mom tried the same thing with my sister, but she resisted. I know myself, she said, I cant have something like that around. This went on for years, but Mom kept pushing. Finally, my sister caved and took her first try. Immediately, it seemed, there were three junkies in our family. But Mom didn’t stop there.
At our last family reunion, I caught her pushing my brother. I admonished her. Why are you doing this, Mom? As an atypically self-aware addict, she immediately admitted that she didn’t want to be alone in her addiction. The more people who shared her compulsion, the better. The more, the merrier. I tried to warn my brother. Dont do it! You will regret it! It will steal hours and hours away from your real life and you will feel such deep regret about the time wasted. To this day I dont know if he resisted or not.
It is not a subject we admit to openly. It’s more of a dirty secret. One that leads us to stealthy actions to hide our compulsions from the world, like an alcoholic secreting away the empty bottles in the late night hours and then throwing them away in someone else’s trash cans. In this case, there are no bottles. Just the program statistics, telling me that I have played 33,081 games. Time to reinstall and set that number back to zero.
I partook again today. For at least an hour, until my shoulder started to ache. In that time, I wrote this blog entry in my head.