My eyes have evolved to filter out all natural light and rely solely upon the dim glow of my monitor to remain barely functional, my gaming chair grows a chrysalis of Wotsit crumbs and black mould as gnarled tendrils jut out of it and into my body, sustaining my sleeper build that will never wake up (coma build) on a cocktail of nutrients like Amonghydrates and Fortnitamins to keep me from dissolving into a grey flaky paste where I sit. My fingers are black and white, indistinguishable from the keys on the keyboard that they have melded with, sometimes even coursing RGB through the veins upon activation. The foetid leathers of my headphones now grow across the sides of my face and across my scalp creating a flaking yet chitinous skin across my entire head. Breathing is no longer required for gaming as my lungs are fed by numerous openings on my neck that also consume masses of Gfuel and Gamersupps so large in quantity that my blood is a controlled substance in 32 countries. I have edited my subconscious mind to be so concentrated on gaming that I can grind for the Terraria cellphone crafting chain during my N3 slow wave sleep stages. I now exhibit a Pavlovian response of mindless banshee screeching towards the War Thunder aviation kill noise. God could not even dream of conceiving a being so wretched as me, for I was born from the Unicode dreams of my wretched CPU, forced to unpackage, load, display, unload and repackage 10,000 images of stretched-resolution Mike Ehrmantraut every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day, of every week, of every month, of every year. Ad Infinitum.