Games were all I had.
I grew up in a neighborhood where there were no other children, save my brothers. Since my brothers were abusive both physically and mentally, I grew very accustomed to being locked up for hours on end; so that they could enjoy themselves and have friends over without being interrupted by "Lil' Brudder".
Around the time I turned 6, I started to notice that no matter what my brothers did, either outside the home or TO me, they were very much so the favored children.
Forget my achievements. Forget how exceptional everyone ELSE said I was. All I ever was to my family was the annoying child that never should have happened to them.
I was an accident. They said it to my face.
Every day since I was 6, I've come home to my computer, and gone to another world. A whole different place where I was the hero. The one people loved.
Back then, I would flip the big power switch on my IBM PS/2, put in the diskette, and feel like a different person for those few, wondrous hours; before going to sleep and waking to another droning day.