Steam lets you create collections. Use this power wisely. Start with categories: Action, Adventure, Horror. Each game must fit perfectly. But some games don’t fit. Where do you put the ones that don’t belong anywhere? You’ll make a new collection for them. Then another. Soon, the collections pile up, swallowing everything.

Your collections need names. Precise names. "Favorites" isn’t good enough. It needs something unique, something meaningful. You spend hours renaming them: "Games I’ll Finish Someday," "Games I Lied About Liking," "Mistakes." You laugh, but the laughter feels hollow. The names stare back at you, mocking.

Right-click. Add to “Hidden.” It feels good, doesn’t it? To make them disappear? But you know they’re not really gone. They’re still there, in the shadows of your library. You hover over the “Hidden” tab, but you can’t click it. What if they’ve changed? What if they’re angry?

You move games between collections. Again. And again. Maybe this one belongs here? Or there? The collections blur together. Your hands tremble as you drag another game. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. You’ll start over tomorrow. You always do.

Scroll through your library. Keep scrolling. Watch as the titles pass by, endless and unchanging. You’ve seen them all before. They’re etched into your memory. And yet, every time you scroll, you hope for something new. Something to make it all feel worth it. But there’s nothing. There never is.

Your collections are perfect now. Or as perfect as they’ll ever be. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. You close the library, but it doesn’t close in your mind. The titles are still there, rearranging themselves, whispering to you in the quiet hours of the darkness.

You don’t want to look anymore. But you will.