I log out quickly, hating myself for the tears that form in my eyes.
They’re a fantasy you’ve built up in your head, Addie. Time to move on and get in tune with the real world, or you’re going to be alone forever.
The next week flies by. The day after the guys suggested I start streaming, I made an account with Streampunk.
After watching a few videos online, I determined the best way to start was to just play a game that I love and enjoy, not one that's popular. I’d hate to grow my account and base it on a game I’m not passionate about, and then be stuck having to play it.
So, I pickTwisted Valley: Solo Invasion.
It’s pretty much the same thing asTwisted Valley, but instead of forming a team, you’re on your own.
The whole point is to build yourself from the bottom to the top, and become one of the world leaders in this post-apocalyptic racing game.
I spent hours trying to decide what my online image would be, debating what would draw people in.
Once again, I was overthinking. I don’t want to be anyone else but me, so why not embrace that mindset in this area of my life, too?
I fought so hard to be myself, wear what I want, act how I want, to be free without judgment. Why would I hide that now?
So, I’ve been wearing my cute pink outfits with my pink cat ear headset.
That choice turns out to be a bigger hit than I thought it would be. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. My style isn’t all that different from a lot of female gamers.
Apparently, I’m the definition of the gamer girl stereotype, but I don’t care. I like what I like, and fuck everyone else.
I’ve been kicking ass on Streampunk for the last week, that’s what really matters.
My follower count is already up to one hundred. How that happened, I have no idea, but the money is rolling in. I’ve been wanting to thank the guys for pushing me in this direction, but with the number of hours I’ve been streaming, any free time I have to log into our game is not when the guys are on.
People have jobs, they get busy, and I’m starting to understand that for myself.
I’m sad, though, because I just got them back into my life, but I’m trying to take this job seriously.
Unfortunately, today is the day my mother gets back. She just texted me that she was on her way home from the airport and that I’m to meet her downstairs so we could talk.
Would it be childish of me to hide in my room and act like I’m not home? Maybe if I get ready quickly enough, I can be out of the house before she gets here.
“Stop being a pussy,” I mutter to myself in the mirror, toothbrush dangling from my mouth as I stare myself down. “You can do this. She’s just your mother. You're very scary, Omega mother.”
I spit the toothpaste out and sigh. “Fuck me.”
It’s still early, close to nine, and I didn’t get much sleep last night. I was up streaming until two in the morning. There was an influx of people who joined my stream, and I felt like if I left too soon, I’d lose my audience. So I stayed until my eyes burned to call it a night, letting people know I’d be back tomorrow.
Normally, I’d have a full face of makeup on, my hair done, and a cute outfit picked for the day, even if it was just to sit at home and do nothing.
This morning, I don’t have the energy for that.
So, I stay in my sleep shorts and top, and throw on a baggy pink crew neck that has a wide neck hole. My pink hair is brushed out and then tossed up into a cute, messy bun.
Without a face of makeup, the freckles on my cheeks really pop. I love my freckles. One of the things I hate about wearing makeup is that it covers them up, so I add fake ones.
I grab my phone off the bedside table as I leave the bathroom and slip on a pair of fuzzy pink slippers. I’m just about to leave my room when I turn back and snatch FooFoo off my bed. I’m going to need her for emotional support.
I’ve been out of my room a few times, but not nearly enough.
Not wanting to bother the cook on their day off, I set to work making myself something to eat.
I connect my phone to the kitchen’s Bluetooth speakers and choose my favorite playlist.
