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Ladies and gentlemen, fellow gamers, and victims of Valve’s latest psychological experiment,

Today, I stand before you not just as a gamer… but as a survivor. A survivor of Counter-Strike 2 — or, as I like to call it, "Counter-Sulk: Emotional Warfare."

When CS2 was announced, I was hyped. New graphics! New mechanics! A new era!
But what I didn't know… was that I was about to embark on a journey full of heartbreak, betrayal, and enough stress to make my therapist start charging extra.

Let’s start with the basics. Hit registration. I shoot someone in the head — or so I thought — and they just keep walking like I politely tapped them on the shoulder. Meanwhile, I get one-tapped by someone who jumped around the corner blindfolded with a trackpad.
How?
Why?
Do my bullets shoot air?

And the smokes!
In CS2, they're dynamic. Wow! Very cool. Except when they randomly block your vision but let the enemy see you perfectly. It’s like the smokes are on their team.

And let’s not forget the matchmaking system.
I queue up thinking, “Today is the day I rank up.”
Ten minutes later, I’m teamed with a guy blasting music, another one throwing every round because his girlfriend left him, and a third who says “Sorry, I'm new” — at Level 32.

Meanwhile, the enemy team?
5-man stack.
Global Elites.
All wearing matching clan tags.
Probably drinking G-Fuel from golden chalices.

But the worst part… is what the game does to your soul.

You lose one game, you say: “Okay, unlucky.”
You lose two, you say: “I’ll win the next one.”
By game four, you’re questioning your existence.
“Was it me? Am I the problem? Is CS2 just a metaphor for life?”

Yes. Yes, it is.

And what do you get for enduring this pain?
A gray skin drop.
Thank you, GabeN. That’ll fix my broken spirit.

In conclusion, Counter-Strike 2 doesn’t just give depression — it delivers it in 4K resolution at 144 FPS.
But like all toxic relationships… I’ll probably keep coming back.

Thank you.