The neon lights of the casino ruined me. I, Alex, squandered it all at the poker tables.
Day after day, the slot machines sang their siren song. The shuffling of cards was my addiction's voice.
My wife, Sarah, implored me to abandon the roulette wheel, but I couldn't resist the pull.
On that calamitous night at the VIP room, I wagered everything: our security, our house - on one spin of the wheel.
My poker hand was beaten and chance betrayed me.
Returning to our apartment with not a penny to my name, I found only a note: "I'm leaving. Your love for the casino has torn us apart."
Sitting in an bare apartment, I comprehended that grasping at a royal flush deprived me of what was truly valuable.
Therapists identified clinical depression, deepened by my losses at the tables.
Now, all the time is a war not just with the phantom sounds of slot machines, but with the overwhelming gloom that haunts me. Will I ever overcome this abyss shaped by the relentless pursuit of the next win?
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