Four months had passed since the breakup, but the lingering emptiness remained. I threw myself into coding harder than ever, working long nights on projects just to keep my mind busy. Freelancing wasn't just a job anymore; it became a lifeline—a way to distract myself from everything I'd lost.
One afternoon, while searching for something to break the monotony, I stumbled across a game that piqued my interest. It was a cultivation game—a genre I hadn't explored much, but the idea of growing stronger, unlocking new abilities, and ascending to new realms felt oddly therapeutic. I downloaded it on a whim, hoping it would serve as another escape, something else to occupy my thoughts.
Within the first few hours, I was hooked. The game was everything I needed—complex, immersive, and with a surprisingly active community. It was in one of the in-game chat rooms that I met Emmanuel.
At first, he was just another player—someone I teamed up with to grind through a few difficult quests. But over time, we started talking more. He had a laid-back, almost philosophical approach to life that I found refreshing. We talked about the game, sure, but also about life, work, and everything in between. He was a coder too, though his experience far outpaced mine, and he often gave me tips and tricks to improve my own work.
One evening, after a particularly intense boss battle, Emmanuel asked me something that caught me off guard.
"You ever feel like you're running away from something?"
I stared at the screen for a moment, unsure how to respond. Of course, I had. But admitting it out loud—or typing it, in this case—felt more vulnerable than I was ready for.
"Yeah," I finally typed. "I guess I have."
"Me too," he replied. "But you can't run forever. Eventually, whatever you're avoiding catches up."
I didn't know what Emmanuel was running from, and he didn't ask for details about my life either. But something in that conversation stuck with me. It was as if he had seen through the façade I'd built—the endless hours of coding, the obsession with finding new games to play, the constant distraction. All of it was just a way to avoid facing the fallout from my past relationship.
Over the next few weeks, Emmanuel and I continued to talk, not just about the game but about real life, real struggles. He became more than just an in-game friend—he became someone I looked forward to chatting with. Through him, I realized that maybe I wasn't as alone as I thought. There were others, like Emmanuel, who were also trying to find their way through life's messiness, one game at a time.
One day, after a long chat about freelancing and career struggles, Emmanuel said something that resonated with me deeply.
"Remember, the world doesn't stop when things fall apart. You gotta keep moving, even if it's just one step at a time."
And for the first time in a long while, I felt like I was starting to move forward again.