The night passed in a blur of floating on ecstasy and drinking myself to sleep.
It was exactly how I figured it would go, especially after the day I had.
Perhaps it's practice, which consistency breeds perfection, but in my case I would say 'balance'. I woke up by 6am on the dot, in spite of the planes and fantasies the weed I smoked took me to.
I was used to it by now, no matter how high I got or how drunk, I still woke up at the sound of my alarm.
Maybe it had nothing to do with practice or the consistency of my indulgences, and everything to do with responsibility.
Or can it be pressure?
I mean, being the CEO of the Wellington Empire and the youngest in history I might add, overseeing all the branches and the various brands, the immediate problem of the venue for the launch of the new collection, and most of all, having 15 ladies to examine in hopes of picking a wife, it has to be pressure.
