Title: I Think Sudoku Has Ruined My Life and No One Loves Me Anymore

I don’t know when it started. Maybe it was the innocent little puzzle I picked up on the back of a plane magazine. Maybe it was that mobile app with the “daily challenge” that felt like a pat on the back from a father who never hugged me. But at some point, Sudoku took over my entire existence.

It started harmlessly enough: a puzzle or two in the morning. Nothing crazy. Just a little brain stimulation with my coffee. Then I started doing them at lunch. Then during meetings. Then I missed my sister’s wedding because I “lost track of time” trying to complete a 16x16 “Expert Mode” grid that literally told me “Only 1% can solve this.” I wanted to be that 1%. You know who else was at that wedding? My ex. Who I might still love. Who now thinks I’m “emotionally unavailable.” NO, JESSICA, I’M JUST TRYING TO FIND WHERE THE DAMN 7 GOES.

I used to have friends. Real ones. Ones who'd come over, play Mario Kart, laugh, drink beer. Now? They don’t invite me out anymore because “all I do is talk about grids and logic chains.” WELL SORRY, KEVIN, BUT IF YOU KNEW HOW TO NAKED PAIR, MAYBE WE'D STILL BE FRIENDS.

I tried therapy. My therapist gave me a fidget cube to “occupy my mind” during sessions. I solved it in 3 minutes and drew a Sudoku grid on the back of my co-pay receipt. She called me “a bit intense.”

My plants are dying. I forgot to water them because I was working on a “Killer Sudoku” for 11 hours straight. My dog peed on my favorite blanket, probably out of spite. He misses old me. I miss old me too.

I just want someone to understand. Someone to look at me and say “wow, the way you filled in that 5 with such confidence—it’s beautiful.” But no one does. My mom blocked me on Facebook because I commented “NINE GOES IN BOX SIX” on her photo of a sunset.

I think I need help. Or maybe just... a really good pencil. Either way, if anyone wants to join my Sudoku support group, I’m hosting one every Tuesday in my kitchen. Bring erasers. And tissues.