He sat in his room every day. Curtains closed. Headset on. Only the light from his screen lit up his face.In his digital world, he was someone. A hero.
Someone with scores, followers, upgrades. There, he built, he fought, he won. Things were happening outside his room too but that all felt vague.
Real life? What did it have to offer him? One afternoon, in the middle of a game, the doorbell rang. He ignored it at first, but a few moments later, his old friend was suddenly standing in the doorway." Dude, you're still alive," he joked. "Come on, let’s go outside. There’s a skate event in the park. You used to love that stuff." The boy looked up, annoyed. "No, I’m in the middle of something. It just started." His friend paused.
"The weather’s great. Everyone’s out there. Just... offline. Being real."But the boy shook his head. "There’s no point. I feel awkward out there. Here, I know what to do." His friend sighed.
"You used to believe the world was bigger than this screen."
Then he turned around and left. The boy was alone again. He stared at his screen his pixelated world.
A world he had made bigger and bigger.
But somehow, it was starting to feel... smaller.
Food for thought
What world do you want to live in?
- There’s the online world where you can escape, build, win.
- There’s the real world full of air, noise, people, and unexpected moments.
- And then there’s the world in your head. That world decides whether you run or really live.
It’s tempting to choose control and comfort the kind a game offers. But real life happens outside the screen, with real risks and real rewards: friendship, sunlight, movement, meaning. The question is: do you still dare to choose that world?
It’s okay to game as long as it doesn’t become your prison.