The future is scary

I find that the future is actually very scary. People change. Priorities, circumstances, a lot of things change with time. Sometimes no matter how strong, intelligent or socially powerful you are, you cannot change things instantly, only through time. Today I find myself being the very type of person that I could not understand so many years ago. Not only did I stop playing Dota, I generally stopped playing games opting to simply rest or watch some shows. My interest still lies with the games but I find that I have less and less time to invest on it. And I am the kind that would not do things half-heartedly. So subconsciously, I decided to ditch Dota. Dota is, simply put, one of the best things that ever happen to me. The other me, the me who comes out during Dota matches, may not exist anymore but the memories remain.

Recently, another big Dota 2 competition came to a close with a big upset. However, it was just entertainment. I do not feel any attachment since I have never stood on such a grand stage. I support my favorite teams and players and that is all to it. They belong to another world unknown to me. What is known to me though are amateur Dota tournaments. I have won and organized amateur Dota tournaments before. And today, everything came back to me when I walked in to spectate the local Mountain Dew Dota 2 Amateur Competition. There are no commentators, no grim-faced managers, no gigantic projector or even rows of chairs. There are only friends, teammates and some young people scrambling around yelling for the next team to get ready. This is how everything used to be.

I returned to a home that is not familiar to me anymore but I still have memories of being there. Both as a resident and as an owner. I remember how the team arrived early, lock in our selected heroes and flipped a coin to determine which side of the map we will start on. I remember how in the days leading to it we studied, we practised and we played like our very lives depended on it. At that time, perhaps it was. My existence was defined by it. I was more famous as a player than as a friend, than as a coursemate in my university. I was known as the one who took people in one-on-one duels to win food and small change back in my hometown. I felt needed. I felt important. And I felt alive.

As the tournament progressed, I remember how my team behaved the same way, watching the other teams play. Trying to figure out their weaknesses and thinking how we could counter them. The anticipation and the long wait for our turn, how it wore us down. Last but not least, the overwhelming confidence, knowing that we could beat them down, snickering as we watched the others. That disgusting confidence. I missed it so much. To know you are the strongest. The sense of superiority that lead you to view others separate from yourself, as if you are a different level of existence. Now I am just the average 9-6 worker you can spot anywhere. Not so superior anymore. Not so confident anymore.

Organizing a tournament is fun too. You get to set rules and you get to see how everything turns out. You get to know people. I actually do enjoy getting to know people, just not making friends. Or perhaps more accurately, I simply enjoy talking to people. And you know for sure that everyone there shares the same interest, the same passion, the same language. You feel comfortable. You feel happy. It is tiring, yes, but it is very much worth it. Nowadays, to find things 'worth' doing is rare. What you usually get are things you 'need' to do. Obligations, responsibilities and the list goes on and on. We instead try to find happiness in mundane chores. To find satisfaction in mediocrity. It is but a lie. You can keep on telling me to let go of the past, but the past is where I lived the most. Now, the future is scary.