I have been writing in a journal on an almost-daily basis since I was 17 years old. This is a record of me going through each entry from the beginning, and commenting on the me from fifteen years ago.

I fear my job may have made me an addictive gambler. Of course, I could only be fooling myself to believe this, but if I believe it, then it is real. I must stop, and vow to never buy another lottery ticket. Even now, I’m telling myself, no - quit after tomorrow, but no - this problem taints me, I must quit as of now. No more risking money on stolen profits. The money I steal from now goes to my pocket, not to my madness. I am as serious as I am scared.

Oh yeah, I used to work at a gas station during my summers at college. We had an all summer long sale on three giant bags of salt for people’s water softeners, and people would buy them like crazy for exactly $10.64 with tax. Half the time if they bought it, the money went to the gas station. The other half of the time, the money went into my pocket. Until I got hooked on using the money to buy lottery tickets (which I didn’t steal because, unlike the salt, they were kept careful track of). It wasn’t long before I realized that stealing to support a gambling habit does not have a good profit margin.

But I’m amused at my reaction here. I still say the same thing about gambling, and alcohol, and junk food, and driving too fast. Maybe I should just give in and live it up.