“Earlier this year, UK Rehab, an addiction treatment provider, launched a dedicated residential rehab program specifically designed for Candy Crush addicts. The program, which costs a minimum of $5,000…” — CNET
The first time I bought extra lives, I lost the game anyway. I deleted Candy Crush and vowed never to play again. Within twenty-four hours I was back. The second time I felt shame and sorrow. I hated my extra lives because they were not freely given. Life is a gift. You don’t buy life. I deleted the game, again. A perverse sense of dignity will not allow me to beg others for more life.
I won’t tell you what level I am on, and I won’t tell you how many times I have quit and relapsed. I have no more lives. The chocolate is spreading quickly and I possess neither color bombs nor any combinations that will make one. I have only one square of jelly left to clear. The screen poses two questions: end game? Continue playing? I want to live.