Around the world, alarm bells are ringing about social media use. What started as a minor concern with the release of the first iPhone has now escalated into a global issue, raising fears about its impact on mental health, loneliness, and even fertility rates. However, before these concerns took over the headlines, there was—and still is—another significant worry stemming from a different device. Video game addiction is a topic I have personally struggled with, and it has negatively affected my quality of life. Currently, I am working hard to address these challenges, and it requires a significant effort.
It all began when I was just 3 years old, a time when the mind is most impressionable and adaptable. Our mother had just returned from a long trip to Miami. She brought us a GameCube, which felt like an alien artifact. Even my brother had never seen anything like it before. From the moment the interactivity began—whether it was Mario or Sonic—I was, for lack of a better word, hooked. I thought of nothing else and acted on that impulse. When I was sleeping, I wanted to play. When I was at school, I wanted to play. Even while eating, I wanted to play. It became my sole desire. Eventually, my parents had to step in, and rightfully so. My grades began to suffer, and they decided no video games except on weekends.
Video Game Addiction: Nothing else hits the spot.
My exposure to video games as such a young age made everything else so boring. School, activities, playgrounds, sports, tv, even talking to other people was so mundane compared to the incredible movement and possibilities of video games. So I was known to everyone as the useless kid that only thinks about video games. I think they sent me to my first therapist for video game addiction when I was just 5 maybe. Even she had no idea what to do with me.
I got used to not playing games in the week it was so mind-numbing. But those sweet sounds and control made it all worth it once I got there. I thoroughly completed each game no matter how deep the rabbit hole went. Hobbies were reduced down to just that. Socializing became really hard, the natural touchpoint for all the boys was soccer. I was disinterested so I was left out of most events and parties. Even when I was just replaying games I felt more at home with Super Mario Sunshine than at a birthday party.
Video Game Addiction: Emerging Adult
When I turned 16, I think my brain started craving more than endless Skyrim playthroughs. Gaming Addiction still had lost it’s I began seeking greater dopamine hits, and that’s when platforms like Twitter and Instagram really gained traction. I started caring more about appearances, developing real relationships with the people around me, and, for the first time, prioritizing my grades. Those efforts paid off, earning me a scholarship in North America.
Once I got to college, my first year was rough. I fell back into old habits, almost like relapsing to escape the reality of being far from home. My second year was a turning point—I started focusing more on my classes, forming friendships with classmates, and committing to a consistent gym routine and a new diet. Then the pandemic hit.
Game Addiction: After COVID.
It felt like the world conspired to keep us tethered to our screens, pushing us further into the depths of the loneliness epidemic. Our entire generation was thrown off course. For me, the effect was most profound during that period. With nothing else to fill my days, I devoted all my energy to perfecting my Animal Crossing island, as if the future didn’t matter.
My campus remained closed for almost two years, and I feel like I missed out on some of the most carefree and formative years of adulthood. A part of me feels deeply resentful, envying classmates who are still in school. It feels like I received a degree but not the complete experience. Securing internships during my final year was incredibly challenging, made even more difficult by my status as an international student.
Something felt off on campus. Most students went home to their parents on weekends since they lived nearby, leaving international students like me completely isolated. I focused primarily on graduating with honors and catching up on watching One Piece. However, I didn’t accomplish much during my senior year. Everyone was more distant than ever, including myself. It’s hard to believe people go into debt for this experience. I feel robbed.
Now in Adulthood.
After returning home, I began searching for an internship to demonstrate my experience. Fortunately, I secured one, though the allure of gaming still lingered in the background. After completing my internship, I enrolled in online classes to stay productive while continuing my job search. Gradually, the hold gaming had on me began to fade. It started to feel repetitive compared to the responsibilities of real life—managing work, earning a living, paying bills, and simply navigating daily life. In a sense, I felt free. However, I also recognized that I had an entire life ahead of me that needed rebuilding after years spent fixated on a screen.
Looking around now, I’m struck by how deeply people are consumed by platforms like TikTok. At least gaming required sustained focus for extended periods, but this is a different kind of dependency. It’s troubling to think future generations might face challenges like rehabilitating their attention spans or vision. I’ve seen people juggling multiple devices just to stay entertained. On the surface, they might appear composed, but are they truly? The lack of genuine connection in today’s world is alarming. People rarely engage in meaningful conversations or form real relationships, choosing endless scrolling over authentic interactions. True connection and emotional expression take effort and sincerity—traits that are becoming increasingly scarce.
This is why I avoid TikTok. My priorities have shifted. My life, my goals, and my career now take center stage. I focus on building a future now. Once I achieve my short-term goals, perhaps I’ll allow myself to enjoy a game or two, but only then. It’s been a tough lesson, but one I’m thankful to have learned.