I have brought a lottery ticket. I am a fool, I know. What person in their right mind would buy into the game of chance, a game which they know they will never win. I will not win. I know this and yet I, and millions of others across the country still buy the little slips of paper, they buy the pieces of paper for one pound in the hope of winning a million.

I realise I won't win; I do not have a chance in hell of winning. I don't, want or have to win. I brought my ticket for one reason and one reason only. I have gotten the greatest gift know to man. The gift which gives you the nice, warm, sort of gooey feeling inside. The gift you get when you have the expectation of something good going to happen. It fills you with excitement and entices you to do it again, to get that same feeling, almost a high.

The greatest of all treasures,


Most people would say that this greatest of all treasures is a good thing, but I know different. I know how it wraps its way around your heart, waits until the iron grip is secure, and tugs. I know how it wants you to feel it again and again, because that's how it keeps itself in existence. It wants you to get addicted to it, to want to feel it all the time. It is like a demon, trying to get through to this world and the only way through is through you.

I realise I am being unfair. Perhaps Hope is not the demon; it is the emotion which comes after. The emotion which follows hope through like a slimy, evil monster, leaving a sour taste in your mouth like bad candy. It creeps through after Hope has given you all its joy and happiness. It sneaks through and it rips your heart out, it make you feel like the world has just come crashing down around you. It makes you want to cry your eyes out, as if somehow, your tears will dissolve the meanness of the emotion that you experience. This emotion is to blame for many things; I may know it as one of the six evils from the devil,

But you may know it as