Lately, as I scroll through Instagram, all I see are highlights from last night’s breaks—clips of someone hitting a “nuke” or pulling a “monster”, followed by captions hyping the thrill, the moment, the jackpot. But I remember when collecting was about something else entirely. It used to be about my favorite players. About completing a full set and carefully sliding each card into those 3-hole-punched sleeves of a binder I was proud to show off. Back then, the joy came from connection—not from chasing a payout. Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that. I started chasing hits over heroes. I wanted the rush. The dopamine. The high of the “big pull”, no matter the cost. And the hobby? It’s built for that now. Breakers talk in jackpots and dollar signs—not in players, stories, or nostalgia. We don’t hear, “Let’s find your guy.” And when that big card gets pulled, there’s rarely any attachment to it—it’s just currency. A win. A moment. Then it’s gone. Looking back, I felt more fulfilled when I pulled a card I genuinely cared about than any so-called “jackpot” I ever hit. #CollectorsMD —
We hear, “Let’s hit something massive.“
I miss that feeling.
And I hope I can find my way back to it again.
Because it was never just about the money.
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