It’s 8 a.m., and the cycle begins again. I’m exhausted from staying up late, obsessively refreshing Flashscore while watching a basketball game. I lost my bet—$200 down the drain. But instead of stopping, I’m already searching for the next game to bet on. It’s not about whether I should or shouldn’t gamble—it’s about trying to win back what I’ve lost. My focus is completely consumed by the next game.

I start work at 9 a.m., and there’s plenty of time to place my next bet. I’ve found the perfect match—football at 8 p.m. My shift goes until 5 p.m., which feels like an eternity. I can’t focus on anything else; all I can think about is the game. But waiting until 8 p.m. feels unbearable. So, I start looking for other games—tennis, basketball, anything. I place my bets, but they don’t go as planned. I lose $100, then $200. The tension builds, but it’s okay. The football match is still ahead. I tell myself it’ll work out.

By 5 p.m., I’m pacing, ready to leave work. I can’t wait until 8 p.m., but I have to. I ignore the missed calls from my girlfriend and parents, telling myself I’ll call them back later. The game is all that matters. Finally, 8 p.m. arrives, and the adrenaline kicks in. My team is winning—1-0, then 2-0. I feel confident, even cocky. I don’t cash out, thinking nothing can go wrong now. But then disaster strikes—a red card and a penalty for the other team. It’s 2-2. The final whistle blows, and I’m crushed. I’ve lost $500, and that familiar sting hits again.

My girlfriend is on the couch, watching Netflix alone. I can’t bring myself to join her. The anger and disappointment are overwhelming. I didn’t call my parents back, even though I know they were waiting for my call. Gambling has taken priority over the people who care about me. And in that moment, I wonder: Why is the thrill of a bet more important than everything else?

The next morning, I find a glimmer of hope. My bet hits, and I win $10,000. Suddenly, everything feels right again. I feel on top of the world, like everything is perfect. I kiss my partner before heading to work, practically floating on air. But then the cycle starts again. I place another bet—a basketball spread this time—and lose $1,000. It doesn’t matter; I still have $9,000. Or so I think. By 8 p.m., I’ve lost all of it. Every last dollar.

It’s 8 a.m. again. Another day. Another chance. But what have I really gained?

I’ve been gambling for so long that I haven’t bought anything nice for myself in ages. I haven’t spent quality time with my partner or family. I’m constantly glued to my phone, searching for the next game to bet on. My life has become about chasing the next rush, the next bet, the next win—only to lose it all. It’s slowly eating me alive. I’ve become greedy, desperate, and numb to everything else. If I won $50,000, could I walk away? I don’t think so. The truth is, I don’t know how to stop.

You can only win if you STOP. This is my wake-up call. I can keep going down this path of destruction, losing everything, or I can choose to stop and rebuild. The choice is mine, and I know I can’t keep living like this.

It’s time to stop gambling. It’s time to face reality and start valuing the things that truly matter—my family, my partner, and myself.

The question is: What will you do?