The invisible struggles

Virtual escape

Maya was in her university room, sitting in front of her cluttered desk with a laptop illuminated by the bright screen of her favorite video game. Around her, the peaceful silence of the university night was broken only by the occasional sound of the keys she pressed feverishly. For Maya, this virtual world had become a safe haven, a place where she could escape the overwhelming reality of her crippling social anxiety.

The origins of this anxiety went back a long way into her childhood. Maya still remembered the first days of elementary school, the unfamiliar faces that all seemed to turn their attention to her. She had always been a shy child, preferring to hide behind her books rather than expose herself to the attention of others. But there was something more deeply ingrained in her that triggered this debilitating anxiety.

She remembered the insidious pressure from her parents to make friends, to be sociable like other children her age. Every attempt to mingle with the groups seemed to backfire; every interaction became a test of her own emotional limits. Mockery, inquisitive glances, unpredictable social situations—all these became triggers for a growing anxiety that threatened to completely overwhelm her.

As she grew older, Maya's anxiety intensified. She avoided parties, social gatherings, and even simple conversations with strangers. Every time she had to face a social situation, she felt a knot in her stomach, a rush of panic that took her breath away. Video games had become her escape, a world where she could be someone else, where she didn't have to fear the relentless judgment of others.

Maya stood in front of the mirror in her university room, contemplating her reflection with a melancholy expression. This mirror, which had once been a source of innocent fascination for a curious little girl, had become a distorting mirror of her insecurities. Every time she looked at herself, she saw the remnants of the cruel mockery and contemptuous looks that she had suffered in elementary school.

The memories of those days were deeply engraved in her memory, like invisible scars on her heart. She still remembered the mocking looks of the other children, the muffled laughter behind her back as she passed through the school corridors. Maya had always been a discreet child, preferring to spend her time reading or drawing rather than mingling with the noisy games of other children.

Her physical appearance had been a constant source of mockery. The other children made fun of her glasses, her shyness, her soft voice. They always found something to criticize, something that made her different and therefore, according to their cruel criteria, weak.

One of the worst periods had been when her classmates discovered her love for insects. Maya had always been fascinated by the small creatures that inhabited the natural world, finding refuge in their secret and mysterious world. But when the other children discovered her hobby, they pounced on her like hungry predators.

She remembered the cries of "Maya the bug geek" and the cruel posters they had stuck on her locker, showing crude drawings of insects and her face with exaggerated glasses. Every day at school had become a test of strength, a battle not to let harsh words and contemptuous glances break her completely.

The worst moment had been during a school trip to the museum, where she had been excluded from the group by her classmates. They had made fun of her openly, ridiculing her in front of the other children and the adults who accompanied her. Maya had felt so alone, so vulnerable, wondering what she had done to deserve such treatment.

These memories haunted Maya even years later, echoing like painful reminders of her childhood. They had shaped her perception of herself, reinforcing the social anxiety that still tormented her today. She had learned to distrust others, to keep a careful distance to protect herself from the emotional wounds she had suffered so often in the past.

Maya wiped away a solitary tear that ran down her cheek, feeling the pain of that time resurface as if it were yesterday. She knew that these wounds would not disappear easily, but she hoped that by recognizing their impact on her, she would one day be able to find the strength to overcome them.

The mirror reflected not only her physical image but also the invisible scars of her past. Maya knew that she had to face these painful memories in order to move forward, to no longer let the shadows of her childhood hold her in the dark.

In the virtual world, Maya felt in control. She could interact with other players without fear of being judged for her appearance or behavior. Her virtual avatar became an extension of herself, an improved and daring version that she failed to embody in real life.

In her university room, Maya was immersed in the game, desperately trying to escape the shackles of her anxiety. Each victory in the game was a small personal triumph, a reminder that somewhere inside her there was a hidden strength that could overcome her fears.

Yet there was also a part of her that longed for more. She knew that taking refuge in video games was just a temporary bandage on a much deeper wound. But for now, it was all she could do to survive college, to face the days when every social interaction was an insurmountable challenge.

Maya remembered the days when she settled down on her older brother's old leather armchair, watching with curiosity the flashing television screen in front of her. At her side, a video game controller waited, a mysterious artifact that seemed to promise a world of adventure and endless possibilities. She had never played a video game before, but she had heard about the fantasy worlds and the fearless heroes that populated these virtual universes.

It was a rainy autumn afternoon, and Maya had decided to follow her brother to his room, curious to know what captivated him so much about this bright screen. She still remembered how he explained the basics to her: how to use the buttons to move, jump, and interact with the game world.

The first game she played was a colorful platformer, where a small character jumped from platform to platform to collect shiny stars. Maya concentrated intensely, her eyes fixed on the screen, her fingers quickly learning to coordinate the movements of the character using the controller.

At first, she made mistakes, falling into bottomless holes or missing difficult jumps. But as she progressed, she began to feel a sense of mastery, a sense of accomplishment with each challenge overcome. The virtual worlds offered her a welcome escape from her daily concerns, a place where she could be free to lose herself in adventure without fearing the judgment of others.

What captivated her the most was the opportunity to explore enchanting environments and meet fascinating characters. Each new discovery in the game gave her a feeling of wonder, a pure emotion that was not tainted by the doubts and uncertainties that often reigned in her real life.

For hours, Maya immersed herself in this virtual world, forgetting the worries that weighed on her shoulders. She felt alive, fully immersed in an alternative reality where she could be who she wanted to be, where her skills and perseverance were rewarded with tangible successes. When her brother finally returned from his own activities, he found her still sitting in front of the screen, a radiant smile illuminating her face. He had laughed softly when he saw her so absorbed, but he had understood the cathartic power that video games had on her.

This first trip to the world of video games had been more than just a distraction for Maya. It had become a refuge, a way to reconnect with a part of herself that often felt overshadowed by her fears and doubts. Video games had offered her a salutary escape, a space where she could feel competent and valued, far from the cruel judgments and social pressures of school.

When Maya left her brother's room that day, she knew she had discovered something special. Video games weren't just entertainment; they had become an emotional lifeline in the sometimes turbulent ocean of her childhood.

Maya turned off her laptop and slipped under the covers, thoughts swirling in her head. She knew something had to change, that hiding behind a screen wasn't the long-term answer to her anxiety. But for now, it was her only respite in a world that often seemed too vast and too intimidating for her.