The gambling halls consumed me. I’m a man named Alex who squandered it all at the blackjack tables.
Day after day, the poker tables whispered promises. The cheers at the craps table was a temptation I couldn’t resist.
My wife, Maria, pleaded with me to quit playing slots, but I was deaf to her pleas.
On that ruinous night at the high-stakes tables, I gambled it all: our security, our property – on a “sure thing” bet.
The cards fell wrong and luck turned its back on me.
Returning to what was once our home with the bitter taste of defeat, I found only a note: “It’s over. Your slot machine fixation has torn us apart.”
Sitting in an empty apartment, I understood that pursuing a royal flush robbed me of love and family.
Medical professionals confirmed severe depression, exacerbated by gambling addiction.
Now, all the time is a battle not just with my urge to return to the casino, but with the overwhelming gloom that haunts me. Is it possible for me to overcome this pit left by my addiction to betting?
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