She’s here. You see her, the most tear-inducing collection of pixels you’ve ever laid eyes on. You throw your stars at her in terrified anticipation while upbeat music plays in the background, convincing you that your odds are really not that bad. Really. Totally not.
The card is limited.
You knew that, but you were tricked anyway. You’re crushed. Broke. You enter a multi room and see a total stranger named ‘BEST GIRL CAME HOME!!!!!’ who has her, totally oblivious to your pain, and the boost drinks that used to be blood in your veins boil. You vow to abstain from scouting for a year. When she comes around again you have enough stars to buy several baby grand pianos. Enough for Michelle sticker insurance.
You scout. She comes home. But the desperation that drove you so far has withered after a year, and there is no excitement because she has no way of avoiding you this time. She’s here, but at what cost? You stare blankly at the screen. You wonder if it’s all worth it. You wonder if any of this is worth it. Why are you playing this game? Why are you so emotionally invested in something that dangles what you want in front of you before cruelly ripping it away from your outstretched hands? Why, when you’ve sacrificed so much—