"Professional E-Sports player Victor Ashforge retires at just 21 after a nerve-wracking defeat against..." read the top article.

A nerve-wracking defeat? What the hell are they writing about?

I leaned back in my chair, holding my phone up. It was the only light source in my otherwise dark room, casting long shadows that danced along the walls.

It's as if they're casting a shadow of disgrace upon my retirement. They'll assume I walked away because I was defeated when in truth, I left because I had grown tired of it all. Tired of the sweat and stress, shredded from the expectations from the pro-scene.

All the drama. All those sleepless nights spent sitting at the monitor like some sort of madman.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

With every passing minute of life wasted on this game or that match, with every hour spent getting closer to failure but not quite making it—the whole thing started taking its toll on me.

Well, consistently being in the top 10 still brought in quite the money. Maybe I should spend that to find a college and a sustainable career.

Whatever, time will tell. For now, though, I'm done playing professionally.

Tying up my shoes, I went outside. The light of dawn broke through my eyes, which had adjusted to the darkness; an electric sky overpowered the rising sun.

A cool breeze ran through my hair. Not too cold yet, but there would be soon enough. Winter was coming.

Already the leaves were turning brown, giving way to winter coats of all kinds. Only then could the snow finally come and blanket everything in white—just like my dreams did night after night for months before leaving it all.

Maybe I should visit the arcade? Might try to go back to the place that got me into gaming in the first place.