Watchmen: My online addiction began about a decade ago. My life was a downward spiral and this seemed like an easy way out. Online, I could be anyone I wanted. I could stop being a loser, a bum, a poor. Online, I was a king. I was rich, successful, had my own business, dated girls. I created my own persona and nobody could question it.

They believed it, or at least I thought they did. I had a few followers who looked up to me because of my success, no matter how false it was. I felt euphoric most of the time and started to believe in my own lies until I didn't know the truth myself.

The next morning though, reality hit like a ton of bricks. I found myself staring at the four old, shitty walls that surrounded me. I was living in an old, run-down basement, covered in filth and second-hand shit. The luxury that I bragged about was non-existent. I became depressed and desperate, which eventually led me to start doing drugs. I posted all day about my superior existence, even though I realized how inferior and fucked up it actually was.

Finally, one day I landed at the hospital and my psychiatrist sent me here, to this group. I still don't want to be here *sobs* but I will kill myself otherwise.

*Watchmen on his first meeting at his local Online Addicts Anonymous Support Group.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3950042&forum_id=2#35846438)

Meeting 2 at Online Addicts Anonymous

Watchmen: After a while, my fake story started to pay off. I began to build a following. It wasn't big--4 to 6 dudes with low self-esteem, who had been mostly unsuccessful in life. For the first time, they felt important because they were hanging out (online) with a rich, self-made guy like me. (Or with the guy I pretended to be.)

Years flew by and these dudes really thought they had a consolidated friendship with me. I kept posting about designer wear, diamonds, expensive trips and girlfriends, and one day, the worst shit happened.

One of my xo buddies had a family member die unexpectedly. He was a loser and was completely broke. No money for the burial or funeral. He said I was his best and only friend, and asked me, in tears, to help him out. At that point, I was broke as shit myself. I could barely make ends meet, was late on my rent and had spent the last few bucks I had on drugs to keep me sane. I was scraping pennies for food.

I had megaposted about Fendi, diamonds and shit for days leading up to that shitty night. And suddenly, there he was: My friend of 7 years, asking for a favor no rich friend could ever deny. I was faced with the shocking truth for the first time: I was a lying piece of shit and had made fake, long-term friendships with strangers online. The moment of truth I dreaded was around the corner.

I could not make up a good lie to him. Either I told him I was a lying piece of shit, or I stopped talking to him. I did the latter. I felt like the biggest scumbag on the planet, but I couldn't stain my name online, nobody was going to shoot any holes in my story.

I nearly puked my guts out when the realization dawned on me: I was worse than any shit I'd ever known. The next night I attempted suicide for the 5th time in my life. I was 26, and slit my wrists like a little bitch. I called 911 and was quickly saved by a team of doctors. 48 hours later, I was back to megaposting about my wealth. I hated my fucking guts so bad and still do. I don't know what to do with my life *cries*.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3950042&forum_id=2#35846452)

we're gonna be through your area this month

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3950042&forum_id=2#35990810)