I Have An Expiration Date Too

I’ve been hearing the rabbits screaming at night. Have you been hearing that? I was told that it’s just the dogs killing them.

As soon as the veil goes down, that’s when I thought I would know something. But then it wasn’t that. I was just pretending, and that was it.

I’m here. I think I know that. I mean, I look back and remember most things. But I remember who I thought I would be. And I’m good. Almost.

Betting App Helps Me Through Life

My betting app cares about me. I know this because they tell me to be sure to ask for help every time I bet. Do I have a problem? Text: Y-O-U-L-O-S-E-R. If that’s too complicated, call the suicide prevention line. But remember to double down.

Gambling is like being in the Death Zone. You can only stay there for so long, but what a fucking high! I almost nailed it! I only missed one game of my twelve-part parlay. Only one! If I only knew that Farleigh Dickinson was going to upset Purdue. I mean, come on. So crazy. But my betting app always remembers to talk me down with sensible points and a pretty lady to keep me focused. She’s right. They’re right.

I’ve got to stop doing this. I realize now that I’m just ruining my life. I’m not eating properly. I’m not paying my bills. I’ve lost all sense of hygiene. It’s time to stop. But wait! They sent me a notification! A power boost of 50% off my next bet! Okay, just this last one. And that’s it. Well, maybe a quick side bet as insurance. And then I’m done.