With a creak and the exhale of an old man, I would slumber out of bed, lethargic from nightly alcohol consumption kept JUST controlled enough to fool myself as sober. "God Damn", I would mutter, stroking my fingers through tousled hair, looking around to gather my bearings as if in a strange place.
The ego would then fire up in sync with the percolating coffee that would provide the needed caffeine to fuel me through a strong day of power striving to gather awards.
Sugar would do it's job right on point, maintaining my high before ending the day at the bar to do it all over again in the name of "networking".
Pride pumped through my veins with passionate zeal. Arrogance protected me from harm. Wit kept the girls near, but never connected. Fashionable clothing encased the entire package, blessed with the genetics of an athlete and my choice of cars carried me nicely from place to place. I was a millionaire.
This is the story of a drug addict. I knew no other way and was surrounded with all the support structures to keep it well tuned. People made a lot of money off that form of Robin. Resentment furthered my decline.
When the charade unraveled, I became wealthy in the nothingness. I dug deep. It was ugly, real ugly.
Then the depression finally lost its grip, departing from my soul. A new strength came over me. I now get to say, "Thanks God" every morning. Amazing how the morning ritual of two little words can change everything.
"Thanks God". Wow, just how grateful I am.