EPTI climbed again on the ladder.
A long absence had kept me from these treacherous rungs,
And it was with some hesitancy, and trepidation, that I put my weight upon it,
my heart,
ego,
soul,
to reach again,
try to hoist myself ever higher.
The ladder is a brutal thing,
where to climb further, you must cast others
many others,
down.
And it is a backwards, in many ways
Victories are to be condemned:
"faggot", "noob", "fuck you"
And blunders are to be celebrated,
albeit through mockery:
"haha", "lol", "how did you lose?"
The only 'gg' given to me,
was in the wake of my own defeat
moments before I would surrender
both painful letters
myself.
I looked into the faces of these poor souls,
and saw something all to familiar.
Much like me,
years of their life devoted.
much like me,
little if anything to show for it.
much like me,
their faces are manifestations of their play,
ugly, disproportionate, little resembling a proper person,
They walked hunched over, as one who is weak, and vulnerable,
a prison bitch in a penitentiary,
For all their heartache and toil no landmarks bare their name.
Should they fade away,
and in time, they will,
it will be no consequence to the game,
The ladder, this ugly thing with it ugly faces, would stay the same.
As we all know, misery loves company,
and I delight in seeing that each painful experience is shared,
with a legion of angry nerds,
washed up,
without ever having been down,
a minnow in a sea, at best,
looking enviously upon the sharks,
ever unreachable,
going bye.
We are like starfish stranded on the beach,
without the mobility and the wherewithal,
to find ourselves back to the sea.
We wither in the sun of greater players,
burning in the heat of our own self loathing,
In the sand we write our names:
"Tryhard".
