Left to my name

So I take my last two chips to the cashier sitting in her prison of gold and neon lights... "Failed again... Another sleepless night." The only solace in having two dollars left in the world is the fact that they're the crispest two dollars I've ever known. What have I become? The thing I've always been? Been fired from every source of gainful employment I've ever had. Hell I can't blame them. I can barely get through a night of drowning in sleep without wanting to fire myself. Take my belongings and place them in their casket of cardboard. Shouting to no one, "Give me my last paycheck and have security escort me out?" My heart is broken and can't be mended. How did I let it go this far? How did I end up alone in this overcrowded world of emptiness and shame? Those crisp ones so starched and hard they cling to each other in my empty pockets as if they know the other is the only friend they have left. Those last two bare naked things. I'll dirty them up and fold them good before letting them go. I'll take away their loveliness and they'll leave me used and left over, as others have before, with nothing to remember me by but scars of dirt and creases of pain. I'll be left alone for good. Wide eyed and broken. Nothing worse than knowing you have failed. No greater pain. No way to leave it. Ignorance you are the bliss I seek. You are my last belief. Please rash over me with your indifference and clear my name.