In a tempest of seething fury and heart-wrenching despair, I was driven to the lamentable act of shattering my cherished television, sending shards of glittering glass cascading like falling stars before the horrified gaze of thirty esteemed guests at my soirée. Each fragment mirrored the tumult within my soul, an explosive eruption of anguished frustration born from the relentless torment of that wretched game. My beloved wife, unable to bear the chaos any longer, has fled with our tear-streaked child, seeking refuge in the sterile embrace of a hotel, escaping the devastation wrought by this accursed team. They have left behind a wasteland of shattered dreams and frayed connections, casting me adrift in an ocean of despair. With a heart heavy as lead, I bid farewell to the once-beloved realm of PRX, casting aside my admiration like a tattered cloak. I shall no longer count myself among your loyal followers, for I am forever marked by this tempestuous upheaval, a ghost of my former self, haunted by the scars of this harrowing ordeal.