Warning to All: Pokemon Go Ruined my Life
Dear Editor,
The rain’s coming down in sheets. I’m sitting just barely out of it under the closed entrance of a Subway, covered in a black trash bag, feet sticking out, my big toe breaking through the sole of my left shoe. Nowhere to go, nowhere to walk to without getting my feet wet.
I had never thought of it as an addiction until lately, from this rain, from this recurring dream I’ve been having of eight bit polyphonic anthems and two-dimensional conquests of cutely named mythical creatures.
Kanto, the gym leaders, the elite four; I suppose that’s how it all began. With those blue cards strewn over of an eight-year-old’s floor, my Game Boy out of batteries from playing too much, the red game cartridge sitting on my desk summoning me. It was fun then; winter breaks, spring breaks, summer breaks. Lazy days, pizza rolls, parents at work, comfy couches. Gotta Catch ém All!
It feels similar, sure, even the obsession with Mew. But back then it was easier. I just had to clean my room. I had to go to school. I had to do the dishes, mow the lawn. I had parents, real world obligations.
