Happy To Be Alive

As I planted my feet firmly on the cold, unwavering concrete of the venue, an echo of familiarity surged through me. I’d been here before. The acrid taste of regret from the last time still danced on my tongue. A marathon overnight shift, murky vision, and a cacophony of unforgiving hangover symptoms had robbed me of my ability to perform. I was barely more than a ghost in the machine, spectating my disaster. But yesterday, it was a new day, a new Alex, King Roach as some would say. I stepped into the venue, armed with a Cheshire cat grin that was mirrored by the sparkling sunlight bouncing off the glass edifice of the building. An unusual, electrifying effervescence bubbled inside me, something far removed from the synthetic fizz of alcohol that once dominated my mornings. It was a potent cocktail of anticipation, exhilaration, and sheer jubilation that I was alive, sober, and ready to conquer the world, one gig at a time. With the team at my side, I introduced them to “Change Your Mind: A Guide To Dreaming”, my new brainchild. As I unraveled the essence of it, their eyes lit up, their bodies tensed, and a ripple of enthusiasm shuddered through our convoy. That excitement was infectious, spreading like wildfire, igniting a blaze of renewed self-belief within me that lasted the entire day. My lifelong devotion to professionalism hadn’t wavered, but something had shifted. A newfound satisfaction painted my day with vibrant hues of happiness. No longer was I a slave to the relentless tick of the clock, each passing minute a painful etch in my sobering journey. Instead, the day seemed to flutter by with an ease I hadn’t experienced before, each moment savored, each task an adventure. As our merry band of misfits pieced together the jigsaw puzzle of broadcasting equipment, the air was alive with laughter and lighthearted banter. This wasn’t just work; it was camaraderie, unity, and purpose. We were weaving moments of joy into the fabric of our labor, redefining the essence of earning a living. My life, once a tumultuous tide of addiction and despair, had transformed into a beacon of hope and change. With every sunrise, I woke up to the knowledge that if I sustained this intoxicating blend of sobriety and self-love, my life would blossom into something magnificent, something beyond even my wildest dreams. I gazed at my reflection in the polished sheen of a nearby camera, and in it, I saw a man reborn.

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