The Day I Thought I Was a Genius
It all started one lazy Sunday morning. I was drinking coffee, scrolling through my phone, and saw an app ad that said:
“Sharpen your mind with Sudoku!”
I thought, Why not? I like being sharp. I downloaded it.
The first few puzzles were easy. “Easy” Sudoku levels are like those friendly tutorials that whisper, You’re amazing! You’re a natural! I finished one in five minutes and felt like Einstein. I even bragged to my friend, saying, “Bro, I think I have a gift for logic.”
He laughed. I should’ve taken that as a warning.
The Nightmare Called “Medium Difficulty”
My confidence lasted exactly two days.
Then I tried a Medium puzzle. Within ten minutes, I was staring at the grid like it was a secret code written by aliens. Nothing made sense. I’d put a “5” somewhere, feel proud, then realize it ruined the whole row. I’d erase it, re-write it, erase it again… and eventually question my entire existence.
At one point, I whispered, “Maybe I’m just tired.” Nope. I was just wrong.
Sudoku, as I learned, doesn’t care about your feelings. It sits there, silently judging you, saying:
“You thought you were smart? That’s adorable.”
The Pencil Tragedy
In a moment of pure frustration, I decided to play Sudoku on paper. “Old school,” I told myself. I printed a puzzle, grabbed a pencil, and sat down like a scholar ready for battle.
Two hours later, the paper looked like a battlefield. I’d erased so many times that the page was practically gray. There were ghost numbers haunting the boxes. The “7” I wrote earlier had turned into a smudgey “?” shape.
My eraser had crumbled into dust. My pencil was gone—probably rolled under the couch in shame.
That was the day I learned that Sudoku is not just a game—it’s a commitment to suffering elegantly.
My Sudoku Mood Swings
Playing Sudoku is like living through all five stages of grief.
Denial: “This can’t be that hard. It’s just numbers.”
Anger: “Why are there two 9s in the same column?! WHO PUT THAT THERE?!”
Bargaining: “If I just guess this one box, maybe the rest will make sense.”
Depression: “I’m too dumb for this. I should’ve stayed with Candy Crush.”
Acceptance: “Okay, I’ll just start over. Again.”
Sometimes, when I finally finish a puzzle after hours of emotional damage, I feel like I’ve achieved enlightenment. Other times, I just lie on the floor staring at the ceiling, whispering, “Never again.”
And then five minutes later… I open a new puzzle.
When Sudoku Becomes a Relationship Problem
My girlfriend once asked me, “Why are you ignoring my texts?”
I said, “Babe, I’m stuck on a Sudoku. There’s a missing ‘3’ and my life depends on it.”
She didn’t find that romantic. Apparently, “I’m solving a Sudoku” is not an acceptable excuse for disappearing for three hours.
I tried to explain that I was this close to cracking it, but she just rolled her eyes and said, “You and that grid have serious chemistry.”
Honestly, she wasn’t wrong.
The Humbling Moment
One day, I decided to attempt a “Hard” Sudoku puzzle. The app warned me: “This level is for experts.”
I laughed out loud. Experts? Please. I’ve done Mediums. I’m basically a logic ninja now.
Thirty minutes later, I was Googling “how to Sudoku without crying.”
I swear the puzzle was taunting me. Every time I filled in a number, three new problems appeared. It was like playing chess against my own brain—and losing badly.
At some point, I got desperate and just started guessing. I filled in a few random numbers hoping for a miracle. Spoiler: it did not work. The app politely told me, “You’ve made a mistake.”
A mistake? No, dear app. I made life choices that led me here.
The Tiny Victory That Meant Everything
After countless failed attempts, I finally solved a Hard puzzle. It took me nearly two hours, a strong cup of coffee, and the willpower of a monk.
When that final number clicked into place, I threw my hands up like I’d just won the Olympics. I may or may not have yelled, “YES! TAKE THAT, GRID!”
Was it dramatic? Absolutely.
Did my neighbors hear me? Probably.
Did I care? Not at all.
For once, I felt like my brain and I were on the same team.
Things I’ve Learned from My Sudoku Addiction
After months of playing, here’s what Sudoku has taught me (apart from how to cry quietly in public):
Patience is everything. If you rush, you’ll mess up.
Logic beats luck. Guessing never ends well.
Coffee helps. (This might not be scientific, but it feels true.)
Life is like Sudoku. Sometimes the answer seems impossible—until you look at it differently.
No puzzle stays unsolved forever. Except that one “Evil” level I still can’t beat. That one’s personal.
My Favorite “Sudoku Brain” Moments
Sudoku brain is real. It’s when your mind starts seeing 9x9 grids everywhere.
One day, I was looking at a tiled bathroom wall and thought, “If this were a Sudoku, that top row would definitely need a 7.”
That’s when I knew I needed a break.
Another time, I dreamt about Sudoku. Not metaphorically—I literally dreamed I was solving one. I woke up feeling both proud and deeply concerned.
But the funniest part? I’ve started to use Sudoku logic in real life.
Missing socks? “There’s one missing in this 3x3 laundry grid.”
Parking lot? “Can’t park here, two cars of the same color already in the row.”
I think I might be broken—but at least I’m consistent.
How to Pretend You’re Good at Sudoku (Even If You’re Not)
If you ever want to look smart in public, just open a Sudoku puzzle at a café and frown thoughtfully. Occasionally write something, then erase it dramatically. People will assume you’re a genius.
Bonus points if you sigh deeply and mutter, “Ah, classic X-Wing pattern.”
Nobody knows what that means, but it sounds impressive.
Why I Still Play
Despite all the frustration, I keep coming back to Sudoku. It’s weirdly comforting—like arguing with a friend who always tells you the truth. No matter how many times I fail, I can’t stay mad at it for long.
Maybe it’s because Sudoku gives you something most games don’t: quiet satisfaction. No ads shouting “LEVEL UP!” No explosions. Just logic, patience, and the simple joy of getting something right.
Plus, that feeling when you finish a tough puzzle? Priceless. You feel like you can solve anything—even taxes.
Wrapping It Up (Before I Start Another Puzzle)
Sudoku might have driven me slightly insane, but I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. It’s funny, frustrating, and oddly beautiful—a little war between chaos and order happening on a tiny 9x9 battlefield.
If you’ve never tried it, do yourself a favor: grab a Sudoku app, a pencil, or even an old newspaper puzzle. Just don’t blame me when you find yourself awake at 2 a.m. whispering, “Where does the 6 go?”
