MY ADDICTION

e point, you're faced with choices so heavy, they seem to control you instead of the other way around. For me, this all star

lothes on our backs, and a roof over our heads. My parents worked hard, instilling in us the value of living within our means and never allowing ourselves to be consumed by envy. The idea of keeping up with the Joneses was somethi

never let it affect me. I was content with my little world. I wasn't the type to be easily swayed by trends or possessions. At least, that's what I thought. I t

ut old enough to notice the differences between my life and the lives of my friends. While I didn't feel the need to hav

ts until you reached a certain age. My parents believed that early exposure to such things would lead to bad habits. They weren't wrong, but what they didn't realize wa

. I couldn't help but feel left out. Sure, I didn't need a phone for anything serious, but the idea of being able to connect, to play games, and to have something of my own, felt thrilling. It seemed as though everyone a

kids. I began watching my friends carefully-how they spent their money, what games they bought, and where they went for their gaming sessions. Eventually, a

ne for?" she demanded.

eeth. "It's for my studies, Mama. I can use it to lo

e for it. I had always done well in school. Reluctantly, she allowed me to keep the phon

e of video games proved too strong to resist. The more I saw my friends playing, the more I wanted to join in. My friends introduced me to a game shop near school

he sound of clicks and shouts. Older boys would hang out there, betting money on matches and cheering loudly when they won. I didn't fully understand what gambli

ts people made. The older boys would throw money around like it was nothing, each game a chance to either win big or lose ever

. "You're wasting too much time on those games," she said one evening,

ould feel myself slipping. This became a routine-play hard during the term, lose my phone before exams, a

phone clutched tightly in my hand. I stepped away for a moment, distracted by

meone had stolen it. I was devastated. That phone had been

amounts of money into bigger ones through betting. Could I do the same? The thought haunted me. The next day, I returned to the game shop-not to pl

emed to drown out everything else. And the more I watched, the more I realized that it wasn't just about winning or l

friend and placed my first bet. I lost. Then I lost again. But I didn't care. I was d

une. The thrill of victory coursed through me, and for the first time, I felt the addictive pull of

e game shop, always chasing that next win. I told myself it was harmless, that

ept up my schoolwork and hid my secret life, but the cracks were beginning to show. I couldn't keep pretending