You must admit to the addiction

I am alone. In my real life, no one plays chess. When I talk about it to friends, family or people in my office, I am greeted by an indulgent stare. They do not understand. They do not feel the pull of the keyboard and the online chess sites. They do not know the comfort of holding a solid chess piece in one’s hand and thinking about the possibilities.  If they dream about a position, it would never be about chess. They would not believe the joy one can experience after winning a particularly tough game. Or the satisfaction one gets when a attack done in one’s head turns out to be exactly as devastating as you first thought. And conversely, the annoyance of a calculation gone awry.

If they knew about the countless hours of my life lost in play, they would perhaps think about staging an intervention.

I have told myself numerous times to ease up. It’s a game, for God’s sake. When I lose online, no one else knows no one else cares. But I do.  I must return to the field of battle and make amends. The cycle repeats.