I didn't want to tell this story. The last time my nick was stolen it was so painful I didn't think I'd ever recover. The hurt was so bad I trained myself to block it from my thoughts and memories, and hoped that one day I would be able to once again go about my life with the same cheerfulness and glee that my family and friends once knew to be my characteristics.

After years of counselling, an abundant of medication and a short phase in the Church of Scientology I finally felt like I was making progress. Things were picking up, and for the first time in years I actually felt optimistic about the future. Maybe there was a life to be had, after all?

But recent events have resurfaced old wounds. With two ESR threads, a decade of shock-therapy went down the drain.

Let it be known that everything you have read so far has been nothing but organized lies and malicious propaganda. Neither of these so-called diabz are the real diabz. Because the real diabz.....
is me.

It all began in the long winter of 1998. I had made quite the name of myself in the infamous Icelandic Action Quake2 community. I was already getting invites from some of the best clans out there; there were even whispers that I would soon surpass the legendary "Scope" as the best MP5/kevlar player out there.

Then came February 9th. It was dark outside; I could hear the wind howling like an injured animal. I was playing public - standard 5on5 team-play. Map after map I topped the scoreboard, and sure enough my team always won. The other players didn't believe me when I changed my nick to diabz[MP3]. I didn't need sound; I was unstoppable. What could possibly go wrong? The world was mine to take.

Next the impossible happened.

diabz connected
diabz joined team 2

Sometimes late at night when I lay awake pondering, I can still picture it.

I still remember how I immediately lost feelings in my legs, as if the ground had been pulled down from underneath me. It felt as if someone had simultaneously punched me in the ear and kicked my balls, only to proceed by peeing all over my aching body.

I tried typing in protest but my fingers would not move. I could not even reach the console button. I was effectively paralyzed.

You have to understand I was only eleven years old. I was brought up in a loving community and this was evil I had never imagined could have existed. I sat there frozen for several hours staring at the screen before emotions finally got the better of me and I started a frantic episode of screams and cries.

My parents rushed in, they had been fast asleep in the next room, unbeknownst to the horror that had occurred just a few meters away to their only son. They looked at the screen and immediately saw what had happened. I still remember the look of disappointment in my fatherís eyes, and the tears of sadness pouring down from my mother. Was this all my fault? Could I have done something different? She later told me they blamed themselves.

I never did play Action Quake2 again. As time went on my name and prospect slowly eradicated from peoples' mind. Years later I heard Scope and his clan proceeded to win the Nordic Winter Ladders of '98 and '99. I'm happy for him.