A “child”, I was, it was just curiosity — a casual glance at a foreign language glowing on the screen. A harmless “let’s see what this does.” But curiosity is a gateway drug. And now? Now I’m in deep. Hours vanish into the glow. Days blur. I dive into the black depths of logic and loops, chasing that one perfect run.
It’s not just syntax. It’s not just commands. It’s war in miniature — me against the machine, me against my own limits. Each bug is an enemy that mocks me, and every fix is a kill. One line at a time, I carve order out of chaos. I bleed in semicolons and breathe in brackets.
Every small victory feels like a conquest. Every finished project is a fortress I’ve built from nothing but thought and stubbornness. It’s not about the time. It’s not about the sleep I’ve traded away. It’s about the fact that I’m building something real in a world where so much is fake.
Addiction? Maybe. But this is the kind you don’t recover from. You evolve from it. You sharpen in it. You rise from it.
And when the code runs clean, when the terminal spits back perfection — I know this is my high.