To him, it makes complete sense, to him, he wanted to experience the judgement days and fight the evils, side by side with the holy man. He knew the truth, and the only truth.
That little boy sat in front of screens for hours, getting excited from killing artificial monsters and internet invaders, watching a civilisation being built, dreaming of creating one of his own.
Nothing mattered to him and his friend, but to win this game, and reach a feared level.
Glory came from a button click, a shout comes, the screen shakes.
Lose is a misery, killing his puppet is worse than an uncle dying.
I came back to that little boy's room today, I saw in sadness how his life still exists.
Revived by his friends and family, they still call him to check if he's behaving or not.
I saw his friends fight for a game on a screen, I saw him and shivered, those feelings coming back, playful violence is just a theme.
He saw his family buy without asking, without knowing, doing thinking they are helping, shouting at workers, frustrated from ink on paper.
"Here, read this, you will get 1000 virtues, and this will give you 4000." I shook my head, and said "I prefer to sweat and learn, than receive worthless counted praises."
I saw then that my body was stuck between two cultures, two people. A little boy that needs his family to survive, and a person trying to create change in everything he does.
I am stuck between two cultures, two people, one i grew up with, and one I am coming back to.
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