As I stumbled into the studio, the effects of another drunken night still clouding my vision, I couldn’t help but notice the way my peers looked at me. They knew I had become a sloppy drunk, and while they took advantage of my alcoholism, gifting me bottles of liquor as a “bonus” for helping them launch their new venture, the harsh reality was that I deserved to be taken advantage of in those moments. I had used their studio space as a second home, and so I swallowed my pride when they handed me the bottle of Grey Goose with a smile on their face. My boozed-up brain, however, was desperate for something to cling to, some hope of redemption. I knew major changes were coming, and so I refocused my energy on the Roach TV brand, aiming to incorporate the pro-wrestling niche as a focal point of attention. The idea for “American Wrestle” was born, and although I had hit an extremely low point of delusion, I once again believed that this new venture would be the one to launch me to success. I spent the remaining time in the studio crafting this project, ignoring the work that was being flooded on my lap by the very people I had decided it was time to distance myself from. The project, however, would never materialize. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t escape the self-destructive cycle I had fallen into. But the efforts I put into the project inspired me again, reminding me of the creative force that still lay dormant within me. I saw how quickly I was able to put together the entire presentation, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a glimmer of hope. As I placed the remainder of my things inside of a trash bag, clearing the studio of any evidence of my existence, I looked forward to the future with high hopes that my life, my family, and my struggling career in the entertainment world would be ok.
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