I can’t just play games

[About Cat Hartliebe]

Part of me wants to just play video games all day.

Don’t get me wrong, I play games. I’m a gamer. I’ve basically always been a gamer. And I pull out all the information I can from games. I can teach and train others. I do not play well with most gamers. Mostly because you’ll find a lot of sexism in the group. I love games. I love the stories. It’s like saying I love books and movies. Games are different and the same. But the group of people that are also gamers? *shake head*

One of my first games were on the computer. I had Reader Rabbit and Treasure Cove back in the early 90s. I wasn’t allowed a console. I wasn’t allowed to play anything not educational.

Well, I wasn’t, but my older brothers were. And I knew how to start a game. I started playing one of D&D games on the computer. I found the discs. I figured out how to do things. I was very lost. But I couldn’t ask for help since I technically wasn’t allowed to play.

Our first console was PS1. And then Gameboy. We ended up with both. I played Final Fantasys and Pokemon. And a bunch of other games I can’t really remember…

I’m distracted! I’m blaming Nugget. (Do you guys even know these posts are more likely unedited content?)

I want to play video games all day. I do. But I’m not. I’m limited on energy and ability. With that limitations, I want to use it for something else. Something productive.

It’s the pandemic. I can definitely ignore everything and just play games. No one will fight me on it.

I would fight me on this. Months without doing work? Months where I’m ignoring my writing? Every story is marked as hard right now. Every single one. So I’m jumping between them trying to find something easy.

It won’t work. Nothing is easy right now. Nothing will be easy any time soon.

“When the world opens”… Guys, it’s pandemic. We don’t have a cure. We’re no where near a vaccine. The world shouldn’t open for two years. That’s the safe time frame. Every time we open, it should be another two years. You’re not realizing the concern here.

Yes there are ways. But this disease hits everything. There are plenty who aren’t noticeably sick. We can’t easily quarantine those sick because we don’t know who they are.

If we stop everyone from moving. Literally everyone. Send everyone a test. LITERALLY everyone. Get everyone’s result. And blockade those who are sick, we may pull off a specific quarantine. How likely does that sound? We should have the capabilities to find all of the people. Yes, globally. And deny them movement of all kinds. Deny them access to the world. Have other people bring them food and care. Without seeing them. Have them be tested every single day until it comes back negative.

Do we even have a test that’s at least 90% truthful? We didn’t before. That’s why they’re still trying to create tests.

Do we have an antibody test? To say someone is immune. Do we know the immunity? Is that immunity capable of denying infection or just limiting it? Is this an infection that once you have it, you always have it, and it can keep revisiting us?

We know pretty much NOTHING about this disease.

Do you realize the weight of that knowledge? I can’t find studies on it. Not really. I can’t find strong data correlation. We’re walking in blind. SARS-2 is dangerous. Just like SARS-1. We’re noticing chronic damage. Or is it chronic disease. Or is it a disease that comes and goes randomly. We don’t know.

And I’m one of those still getting symptoms two months later. My house? Fine. Everyone else had a mild case. They were done. It didn’t return. They’re fine. Not me. My chronic issues from before are even worse now.

My “I can’t breathe” moments are more often and longer and worse. Not as bad as my lowest points before. Not bad enough I should be visiting the ER. But I should have an oxygen tank. I’m passing out. I’m crashing. I should make people worried. It’s that bad. Maybe I should visit the ER. But they never helped before. Never. Not once. You have no idea how many times I’ve asked for help and gotten “You’re just crazy”.

I wish it was all in my head.

It would be the absolute worst if this kills me shortly. No oxygen, no life. It’s possible.

I didn’t even publish Dragon Rider 7th Grade. Or Dove. Or the million other stories I need out in the world. I don’t have enough time.

I can’t spend my days “relaxing”. Are you crazy? I need to push as hard as I possibly can. So I can get more out there. Because I can’t help someone unless I’m there. My books can help. I know they can. I don’t know who or how to reach them. But they can help others.

They can’t help anyone sitting on my computer incomplete. A first draft may reach the public one day. If someone decides to take my story and fix it. I doubt it.

If the only thing I have to look forward to is death, I’ll work that much harder. Because I don’t care so much about my life and making sure it lasts. It’s a horrible life. No one would want to live it.

Your life, though, your life is valuable. If I can help even after I die, then I will do anything.

The only thing I seem good at is writing. I fuck up conversations ALL THE TIME. I ruin relationships. I’m a horrible person. I’m constantly making errors and mistakes. You can’t edit real life.

Let me help you by finishing these books. By getting them good enough for the world. I love you. This is my only way to show that.

I can’t play video games. Not all day. Short breaks now and again are fine. But I have to spend what energy I have focused on the future. That means I need to work. I need to write. I need to rewrite. I need to read these works intently seeking errors. I need to edit heavily. I need to work.

You may not realize it, but you need me to work.

I am not looking to become a super famous person. I don’t care about fame and glory. I don’t care if I end up getting articles written about me or not. Whether my bank account gives me a chance to figure out my illnesses or survive without help doesn’t matter.

None of that matters. No one picks writer for fame and fortune. That’s stupid. It’s not a career for fame and fortune.

We pick it because there is something we have to say. Something we want you to know.

I accept you. Completely. You are worth it. You are valuable. I love you.

I will work hard to let everyone know. Because this you means everyone. Every single person. Let me be your mother now and again. Let me read you a story as you settle in for bed. I’ll hold you close and cuddle beside you. Allow me to tell you “I love you” every day. You matter.

You do have a reason to live. You have a purpose. To be my child. I want you to become the best you you can be. Allow me to support you on that journey. It won’t be easy becoming the best version of you. Don’t give up before you try though.

How? You question how?

Close your eyes.

What do you see?

Okay. Clear your mind. Completely. Make it blank.

Now picture yourself. What do you see? Where are you? What are you doing? Be outlandish. It’s okay. We’re fine aiming for the stars.

What’s the perfect you of right now? What are you aiming for? I support you.

If that goal changes. I will still support you. Even if I’m the only one.

The only way I can reach everyone, the only way I reach people in the future, is to get my words down. To get my stories penned and perfect. What I offer to those I can reach is something. I’m not wasting my life. I’ve made a difference in so many lives already.

But not enough of them.

So no games for me. I have to work. I would regret everything if I died before getting more of my books published. I can’t deny the world my stories. It would be my biggest regret.

[About Cat Hartliebe]

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