Confessions of a Compulsive Gambler: A True Story

by Brian Weiss

Slot Machine What the fuck!

That's what I want to know -- what is the fucking deal here? I can't win to save my's driving me fucking insane, goddamnit! I haven't walked out of a casino with more money than I walked in with in literally three months. I have done nothing but, lose, lose, lose, lose... I just don't understand it. It's like I've been cursed or something. No matter what I do, I lose. No one calls for work anymore. I haven't had an extra gig in months, haven't been laid in well over a year. The friends I have I can count on one hand, when I used to be able to fill up a convention hall. What has happened to me? Why is this happening. I don't care why I just want it to stop. Now. I want fucking money. I want thousands. I want my goddamn bills paid. All of them.

Damnit, this isn't a compulsive gambling problem. I'm up against the wall here, financially. True, I did blow more money than I intended to over the past few months, but it's not because I'm's because I'm losing my ass. I'm not going to walk off of a machine that wins a little pittance for my investment. Those fucking 10 play machines can pay $4000 for a single hand. Why should I accept $120 when I put in $80? That's bullshit. One fucking hand, just one fucking hand and I'm a winner. I hit four aces at 7-11 three nights ago and walked out even. What the fuck! I keep getting a little tiny bit ahead and then it takes it all. I haven't had a streak or a significant win in months. I hit a royal on a nickel machine and walked away $100 down. What the fuck! I repeat, I'm not so bad I can't think straight, or that I lose my mind like I used to. I get angry, sure, but Jesus Fucking Christ, how long do I have to play to get a fucking win...a real win, enough money that I can pay something off or at least feel like it was worth the effort.

Damn, I want to go back out so bad right now. I'm just so angry. Goddamnit! God, you fuck, I know you're there and I'm pissed off at you. Why have you forsaken me? What have I done to deserve this? I'm a good man. I work hard. I want more than anything in the world just for the people I love to be happy, and for me to be happy. I frankly don't give a flying fuck about money, I just want some relief. I want to relax and feel good about where I'm at. I don't recall feeling like I had my life under control since the day Katherine was born. It's not fair. My bipolar stripper housemate Mary puts me through hell, and then just when I'm ready to fucking kill her, evict her, abandon her, she comes through with money. I swear, if she pulls any shit in the next week, I'm asking her to leave. Why can't she just be cool? Why can't she just take a chance with me...sleep with me, kiss me. I have to get rid of her. I've got too much energy tied up. I want my life back, damnit! I want to feel good again. I want to be free from drugs, and gambling, and all that bullshit. I want a lover and some good friends. I want a business that makes money for me while I sleep. I want some fucking serendipity. I don't ask for much. Hell, I hardly ever ask for anything for me.

God, I'm lonely. I'm hungry. I'm sad and I'm scared. I don't like being an addict. I don't like not having fun anymore. I don't like Frank calling me and yelling. I don't like being abused by Mary. The only thing that brings me joy in my life is Katherine, and I work so hard for it. My job is just sort of something I do. I do like it but, it barely feeds my soul. I miss everyone. I want sex. I want someone who makes me feel loved. I want so much to be loved, hugged, kissed. Someone who comes to me. Sometimes I just want to disappear. I'm tired, Lord, I'm very tired. Tired of being who I am. Tired of losing. Tired of being lonely.

Please...please, I just want a little love in my life, someone to care about me and someone I can't wait to get home to at the end of a day. I want Shelly in Sausalito with the pigeons, or Melissa at the waterfall, or Sasha's bedroom eyes. Joan's mad passion, Sylvia's lotus blossom. I mean, something special, even the way it felt when Katherine was a baby and feel asleep in my arms. I felt so proud, so in love. Tears of joy. I want tears of joy.

And you give me dick. Fuck you. I have alway been respectful of your power. I pray. I acknowledge your presence. I'm a good man. Is it so much to ask? Is it?

So, please...grant me this wish: Make it all good. Give me someone to love, give me a fortune to manage and people who believe in me. I need to be believed in. I need someone to believe in. Katherine is my angel, but I need a savior. My angel deserves to see her father happy. I deserve to be happy. I've suffered enough. I'm done.

Lord, Sekhmet, Buddha, Nharajah, Ghanesh, to you I offer my sincere prayers that you will hear this humble man and grant him joy, peace, love, security and a beautiful woman to share it with. May you also grant that peace and joy to those whom I hold in my heart as well.

Please, I'm not angry, I'm sad, tired, lonely and hungry. I need a break. Please. Please?

©2001 by Brian Weiss

Brian Weiss is a sixteen year resident of Planet Vegas, a freelance Web developer (visit his Web site), a part-time daddy, a musician, a writer, and a recovering compulsive gambler. He appreciates email, but assures incorrect answers to any stupid tourist questions.

Author's Note: Compulsive gambling is a serious addiction. If the above sounds like you, get help. Gambler's Anonymous is good place to start.

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