When I first heard about you I thought you were going to be a glorified version of my favorite game Bejeweled Blitz. After receiving multiple invites – against my better judgment – I went ahead and signed up.
From the very beginning you sucked me into the Candy Crush vortex where time ceases to exist.
And then you held me tightly in your grip.
Honestly, I didn’t know the true meaning of addiction until you entered my life.
I played your game from morning until midnight – ignoring all of my other responsibilities.
The laundry piled up to the ceiling. Trash cans overflowed. Dirty dishes were left in the sink. And my house quickly became the newest filming site for an episode of Hoarders.
But that didn’t stop me.
With each new level, I became more and more obsessed.
Your musical theme song hypnotized me into harassing my friends on Facebook – begging them for extra lives, tickets, or help to unlock next chapter. And you plagued my life with ticking bombs, regenerating chocolate squares, striped candies, along with that darn rainbow sprinkled doughnut.
Even when I wasn’t playing?
I dreamed about clearing all the jelly, or bringing down the ingredients, one power-ball maneuver at a time.
Alas, there is nothing sweet, or tasty, when you tell me there are no more possibilities.
Especially when I thought I was only one move away from finishing the next god-forsaken level!
Sadly, I can’t play with you anymore.
I have lost countless hours, days, and possibly even weeks of my precious time. If I continue living this way, I fear the men in white coats will soon take me away. And I don’t want to end up sucking my thumb, in the fetal position, while locked inside the corner of a mental institute.
Goodbye, Candy Crush.
It was fun while it lasted!
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