Dear Fantasy Sports,

I cannot stand you any longer and something needs to be done. You’ve taken my money, you’ve stripped me of my pride and you’ve wasted more of my time than I could have ever imagined. What I thought was an innocent little game between me and my friends became one of the worst things I have ever agreed to in my 17 years on this planet.

Being the avid sports fan that I am, I already knew a great deal about you when it came to the NFL and the NBA. I had heard of companies like FanDuel and DraftKings promoting your nonsense games. Even the worldwide leader in sports — ESPN — has fallen right into your dirty hands with its 28-hour fantasy marathon. This was the last thing anyone needed to try and glorify one of the most dangerous addictions in the United States, rivaling the likes of cocaine and intercourse. According to scientificamerican.com, tests run by certified neurologists show that drugs and gambling affect the brain in the same way.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did. People around the country began implementing buy-ins and week to week bets on who would have the best performance in one of your ridiculous leagues. Each week, millions of people lose money trying to trade for or start that one guy who will somehow make your garbage 0-4 squad a playoff team, much like myself.

This year alone, I have spent a grand total of $35 American dollars that weren’t even my own, all in hopes that I could more than quadruple my money. Unfortunately, like all things that involve borrowing money and gambling, there was never going to be a happy ending.

You, the conniving little piece of work that you are, conned me with the lure that this was going to be an easy way to flex my sports knowledge for cold hard cash. Instead, players like Ezekiel Elliot and Nikola Jokic will haunt me for the rest of my life. Virtually drafting them to virtually play on my virtual team was one of the worst decisions I have ever made. I simply became another statistic in the billions of dollars of revenue you generate every year.

To go hand in hand with the billions of dollars you steal from innocent sport fanatics, few things are more insulting than finishing dead last out of 12 in your disgusting league. Time and time again, you strip people of their pride and subject them to constant torment for years on end by some of their closest friends, but it doesn’t stop there.

The coveted SC Featured did an entire based on the punishments people in your degrading leagues. As punishment for finishing last, there have been people forced to strip down to their underpants and sprint down city blocks, have their legs waxed until they are smooth as a baby’s bottom, reenact Carly Rae Jepsen’s music video “Call Me Maybe” or simply wear a t-shirt with the timeless phrase “Loser” printed in big bold font. They say that you’re harmless and merely a game, but what other harmless games involve public indecency and humiliation?

As a senior, it is hard enough to complete any task in this distraction- ridden world. Now imagine trying to make some fast cash because I am terribly lazy and could not be bothered to get a real job. So instead, like any foolish teen, I threw money at something in the hopes I would get some more in return.

I thought to myself that with 24 hours in a day, I couldn’t possibly run out of time to set a lineup and be aware of all that is happening around the league. All of a sudden, I began to dedicate hours upon hours scrolling through different apps trying to think of ways to help my worthless team become a little less worthless by adding another scrub on the waiver wire or trading a top talent who’s been injured for the past six weeks just to see him score more points than any other player his first game back.

I began to question the purpose of all this pain and suffering. What was the point of having one team eliminated from playoff contention halfway through the season? What was the point of having another team start off the season in last place? All this stress, all this time and all this energy into a lost cause. Meanwhile, I was driving myself insane trying to conquer you I soon began to realize that all this time spent on you was time taken away from my statistics homework, myth essays, physiology projects, government reading and not to mention a column where I write about all the things that I’m sick of.

If I have to hear Matthew Berry talk about his top-five fantasy running back waiver wire adds one more time, I may just have to end you once and for all.

Congratulations you waste of time, now go out and celebrate with all the other s— that grinds my gears.

In the words of the great of the great Joe Pesci, “I’m done with this guy.”

Worst Regards,

Kamyar Moradi