I Have A Gambling Problem.

(Feedback is appreciated and welcomed, I'm pretty new to writing, this being my 4th or 5th story. I hope you enjoy and let me know what I can improve on!)

If you're reading this, I've caught a long enough break in-between my spurts of... Well I'm unsure on how to word it. I feel like I'm making memories but then they instantly disappear the second I try to recollect them, only leaving a faint whisp of what was. But based off what I can recollect, I'm a gambler. I seem to have a pretty hard addiction to the slots. Maybe it's the colors, maybe it's the loud noise that plays when I win. All I know is that I have been sitting at my desk for a long time, and haven't slept for days. I say days, but even that I'm unsure about. Sometimes it feels longer, sometimes it feels shorter. All depends on the streak.

My life seems to be falling apart. In the glimpses of memories I can actually remember, I'm on cocaine or ketamine or literally any drug. My desk is covered in molding garbage and the stench it lets off doesn't seem to bother me anymore. I wonder if I have a family, a wife? Maybe kids? I hope they don't get to see me like this. How long have I been at this? Gambling in general I mean. My living situation is sub par, a trailer with leaky faucets, and a haunting stench coming from the toilet that is constantly overfilling with sewage. I hate my life. I hate being bound to this chair, seemingly unable to move.

I hate blacking out all of the time, then briefly coming back only to pass out again. I hate coming back to reality with my nose buried into powder. Every time I come back, I try to walk out, to leave, to drive to a rehabilitation center. But I always find myself right back here. Like some kind of fucked up groundhog day. I feel like I should stop, and that I can stop. But I also feel like I don't want too. The part of me that wants this seems to be a bigger part than I want to admit. Is this it? My life, forever reduced to a drugged up gambler at his desk that's covered in moldy fucking food and has walls that are covered in some sort of sludge? I hate it. I hate every bit of it.

I cannot let this continue. I'm going to stop this.

I can't be real. I'm not real. I am a figment of someone's messed up and twisted mind. I came back to find the rope still around my neck, but I'm at the computer. I AM AT THE COMPUTER WHEN I SHOULD HAVE DIED. My neck is snapped, I can feel the bones twist and grind whenever I move my head. But I don't feel it. Why don't I feel it? Am I truly not real? I can feel everything slipping away from me, like I was never actually in control. It wanted to make me feel like I was in control.

I put in a bet for 200 dollars on slots.

I lose it all.

Shucks.