Page 4 of Aim Assist

And then, when he's back in my inbox, begging for my forgiveness, I'm going to step on his balls with a pair of my favorite stilettos and really grind them in, so he knows he's missed out on the best bitch he could have ever had.

Yep, I've moved on. Can you tell?

Taking out my aggression in Shadow Ops' competitive Supremacy mode, I don't bother with teamwork. I can hear my teammates swearing at me every so often as I rush an enemy flag without backup.

It's funny—no matter how popular you get as a streamer, most people in games don't recognize you. They don't know if you're good or bad from your gamertag. Sure, your followers know you, and you get into a headspace of thinking that you're recognizable…

In reality, even the most famous streamer is a tiny fish in a giant ocean of players, who don't all watch videos on the games they play. They just play. For fun.

So my teammates curse me. It's fine. They don't know me. I'm a wild card.

It always feels good when you play and find a fan, don't get me wrong. It's a crazy high.

But today? It feels better when you're trying to bust up all that tension inside with incendiary devices on a video game and don't have to worry about the feelings of strangers who don't know you.

It's why we have alt accounts. But today, I'm streaming, looking hot as fuck and making crazy decisions. My comments are an entire mood today as half of them cheer me on and the other half degrade me for being a show-off.

They can all fuck right off.

Then there's the voice chat of my fellow teammates. That's fun, too.

"Is this bitch a girl? Get the fuck off the game if you can't play. Fuck, I don't want to carry your fat ass, AMY. Amy? Amy Dead Yet? Fuck kinda name is that. Like telling everyone you're dog water. At least try to sound hot."

"She's fucking trash. Shit, someone got me. Fucking lag! Lag is a bitch today."

"I'll fuck her in the ass if we lose. Fucking fatass bitches always think they can play but they're all hard carried. Why would you air strike there? Dumbass."

Wasn't even my air strike, you fucking moron.

I don't bother with responding; they aren't worth my time.

My kill count rises rapidly as I sneak around cars and toss a few grenades. Other times, I snipe the unaware as they come around corners, never knowing that I'd seen them coming.

It isn't like every shot I hit goes for a head. Plenty fly wild and free, sliding into an innocent wall or car. There are more body shots than not.

I die a few times. Not a big deal.

It's all about the kill streaks, though. Taking advantage of the radar after a 3 kill streak, I manage 2 more, giving me the option to drop a missile.

So I do.

The entire time, the NPCs speak with their sexy Russian accents. It's all because of this game that I have a thing for men with Russian accents and tac gear. Seriously, it's a problem.

When an enemy finishes me off with a grenade, I respawn with grim determination. He's in a broken down building, up a ramp made of the fallen remains of the second floor's landing.

A few quick shots and he's down, with the gratifying payback! flashing at the bottom of my screen.

That's what you get, bitch.

When the game ends (with a loss), my frustration still simmers. Toward the latter half of the game, when all my teammates realized they couldn't keep calling me a hard carry, they switched to other insults.

"Must be nice to sit around in your mom's basement, fatass. Some of us have to work for a living."

"Fuckin' no-life neckbeard."

"That's not a girl, guys. That's a G.I.R.L. You know, Guy In Real Life? Hahaha."

Would be nice if people would come up with something original. It's all the same. Death threats, rape threats, jabs at your employment status, your looks. The only thing missing today is how many men my mom has fucked, which is apparently a shocking amount for a strict Christian woman who married her high school sweetheart.

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