The allure of the casino destroyed my life. Alex here, squandered it all at the poker tables.
Day after day, the casino beckoned. The clinking of chips was a temptation I couldn't resist.
My wife, Emily, begged me to stay away from the casino, but I was deaf to her pleas.
On that ruinous night at the underground gambling den, I wagered all we had: our savings, our dwelling - in a desperate attempt to win big.
The cards fell wrong and luck turned its back on me.
Returning home with not a penny to my name, I found only a note: "Goodbye. Your obsession with poker has destroyed us."
Alone in an hollow house, I understood that grasping at the big win deprived me of love and family.
Medical professionals confirmed severe depression, exacerbated by gambling addiction.
Now, each day is a struggle not just with the memory of the poker table, but with the all-consuming melancholy in my mind. Is there any way I can rise above this black hole carved by endless nights at the tables?
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