I gotta get this out. Like, I’m literally shaking right now. It's 2 AM and I just... I almost blew it. Everything. All because of this stupid game. And it’s not even stupid, that’s the problem. It’s the one thing, the ONE thing that’s just mine. You know? Everyone else has their golf, their book club, their whatever. My thing is dropping into a totally chaotic, high-stakes battle royale with a bunch of kids who probably think I'm, like, some mysterious quiet genius. God. It started, I guess, when the kids left. My actual kids, I mean. Empty nest, all that. You think you’ll spend your golden years volunteering, maybe take up pottery. But then you’re just… alone. And the quiet gets LOUD, you know? So my grandson, bless his heart, showed me this game. “Grandma, you’d be good at this, you’re so stealthy.” He meant like, creeping around the house to surprise him, not actually headshotting people online. But something clicked. The strategy, the quick thinking, the adrenaline. It was like being back in a negotiation, but with actual consequences if you messed up. Instead of just a quarterly review that made me want to pull my hair out. So I started playing. A lot. And I got good. Really good. My K/D ratio is actually insane, don’t even ask. And I ended up on this squad, right? With these three guys, maybe 16, 17? Total whippersnappers. They call me "Ghost." Because I never talk. My mic is ALWAYS muted. Can you imagine? Their little squeaky voices, all "Yo Ghost, push left!" or "NICE shot, Ghost!" And I just… nod. Or, like, press the little 'affirmative' ping. Because if they heard *my* voice, if they heard a seventy-year-old woman, they’d laugh me right out of the lobby. Or worse, they’d get all patronizing. "Aww, good for you, sweetie." Ugh. No. This is my escape. My tiny corner of the internet where I’m just… a player. An anonymous force. But tonight, man. Tonight we were in the final circle, like, literally down to the wire. Just us against one other squad. And one of the kids, he goes down. And the other one, he’s pinned. And it’s just me and "Blaze"—that’s the third kid—and he’s yelling, panicking, "Ghost, WHERE ARE YOU?! DO SOMETHING!" And I had the perfect flank. The absolute perfect play. But I needed to tell Blaze to hold his position, just for like two seconds. Just a tiny whisper. And my finger hovered over the mute button. My heart was POUNDING. Like, full-on palpitations. Because if I hit it, if I spoke, it was all over. The mystique, the respect, the pure, unadulterated FUN I get from being Ghost. It would be GONE. I froze. Just for a second. And Blaze got picked off. And then I went down too. We lost. We lost the whole damn match because I couldn't bring myself to unmute. And now I'm sitting here, staring at my reflection in the dark screen, and I just… what the hell am I doing? Is this… normal? To care this much about what some teenagers on the internet think of my voice? It feels so ridiculous, so childish. But also… it feels like the only part of my life where I’m not just "Grandma" or "retired." It’s a rush, a genuine thrill, and now I’ve completely ruined it. And I don’t know if I can even face them tomorrow. They probably think I’m some kind of coward now. God. What a mess.