I hate that when your parents passed away, you pulled away from everything—except World of Warcraft. I hate that for the last year of his life, you often forgot to take your father-in-law to his doctor's appointments because you were too busy in your fantasy world. I hate that when I tell people that my mother and I aren't close because she is addicted to WOW, they laugh.

I hate that when I am visiting and want to do something with you, I have to organize it weeks in advance so you don't have a "raid" scheduled. (What the hell is a raid, anyway? Wait, don't tell me, I don't really want to know.) I hate that you've passed your addiction on to my younger brother, and now he has failed out of college, gained 200 pounds, and is living at home so that he can use the high-speed internet you provide.

I hate that our family's home is now a twisted real-world version of that episode of SeaQuest DSV where there are two kids left in the world and they only know how to interact through the internet. I hate that you won't admit you have a problem and get help. And I hate that I don't respect you anymore.