I stared into the computer screen for hours. It felt, in a way, like an Aztec sacrifice. Hours and hours of my life disappeared in pursuit of things more then I could get. My life for the computer god. I told myself that it was an anesthesia and that became my excuse and the reason for my constant worship. I didn't realize that I had a full blown morphine addiction on my hands into it was too late.
My callouses were already gone when I unplugged, saving for one below my right palm I developed laboriously improving my six pool. It was too late for my youth, but not too late for me. I spent the next year plagued by migraines that would bedbound me turn my iris into a faint ring of blue wrapped around a black hole.
...check please too tired to continue. Well not bad for being out of practice for so long.