Once it's in your blood you chase it the rest of your life.
I had a great career, 23 years all over the country with awards, raises, titles, a little prestige and yet I threw it away because I couldn't stop chasing the high. Wouldn't stop chasing the high. Oh sure, I worked my 12- 13- 14- 15-hour days -- no one put in more time -- but I also went on 96-hour benders and that's not even the half of it. Surprised I've made it to 41.
Anyway, when I read Monteith died in a hotel room, I knew exactly.
The day the company's top bosses called me to offer me a better title and 5-figure raise I was in the seediest of seedy hotel rooms in Capital City. They called for hours. They called people at the paper who tried calling me. They were ready to put out an APB. Every time they called I let the phone ring out then took a hit. Next day I called and said hey, it was a day off and I was out of reach and deal with it. We set up another phone chat a few days later and those bosses gave me the title and hefty raise.
To celebrate I went on another bender at the same motel. Things only got worse, then I got fired for lying on my timecards to pay for my habit.
So if it makes Hondo feel better I'll recalibrate the original sentiment:
Demons? Nah. I'm just an addict, a junkie, a loser.
Maybe one day I won't be those things.