My name is David, and I’ve been addicted to cocaine for about two months. It’s destroyed my personal relationships, driven a wedge between myself and my family, and emptied out my bank account. I’ve never had a darker point in my life than what I’m going through right now.
But on the other hand, my Starcraft game has been fucking phenomenal. Usually I’m looking at an APM of 160, 170 when I’m playing some Zerg, right? But now, I mean, come on, guys—I might not be winning these games, but the sporadic way I’m sending those guys around the map while managing my resources and buying more cocaine on my phone isn’t just impressive, it’s virtuosic. 540 APM. Fucking prodigious. I looked that word up in the time it takes a regular person to indent a paragraph. That’s the level of shit I’m on right now. The type of coke that King fucking Midas rubbed his dick on.
Oh, I didn’t even mention—ready to be impressed? I sold my entire gaming setup, and I’ve been running this whole franchise off of my buddy Greg’s shitty laptop, which I stole from his car when I stole his car to sell it for more blow. All of that, and I’m still crushing it against this Terran piece of shit. What’s his APM looking like? Fucking embarrassing. I needed to hit rock bottom so I could reach these record highs. What is he willing to do?
It’s not just that, either. When raid night comes around in WoW, and I’m looking at that healing UI, I don’t just see different colored boxes anymore—I see the code in the fucking matrix. I see the game’s heart, and it beats in time with mine. I’m not healing anymore, I’m playing Dance Dance Revolution, but the UI is the dance floor, my fingers are my feet, and my guildmates are the awestruck, extremely well-healed audience. Sure, my credit score has dropped by at least a hundred points in the last month alone, but you don’t get #1 on the DPS charts as a healer without making a few sacrifices. Such as technically owning the house you live in, or being able to smell.
Anyway, I’ve got to get going—this laptop is about to run out of battery and they stopped pushing power out to this place weeks ago. That, and the fact that I’m writing this entire article in the time it’s taking the police to break down my door. Tell that to those “pros” in South Korea. Doesn’t matter, though. I can turn this thing off and just stare at the blank screen and let my mind do all the work. Talk about being a fucking savant—I’m playing as myself, as my opponent, and imagining the entire thing, right there in front of me, and I can do the exact same thing with a cell wall. That’s the power of perseverance.
And piles and piles of dangerous, extremely illegal drugs.
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