Work slowed down, and without my industry connection, I fell into a depressive state. I began showing up to the office with the intention of day drinking, and work became secondary. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were all complimented by an IPA or Lager. My misery was at an all-time high, and I sat in front of a computer screen, watching the TV that hung above the entryway, contemplating my next move. The necessity to leave “home” was dire, and the relationship I had with my mom was suffering more now than ever before. She had gotten a glimpse of my personality and lifestyle, and it was worse than she initially imagined. Being religious, she would write me letters and offer biblical counsel on subjects she felt would improve me as a person. But I simply didn’t care at that time. I had already gotten a taste of what life for a celebrity was like, and I was hell-bent on becoming famous. The money generated from my current employment diminished after my relationship with the label soured, and so I did what I felt would keep me around “the music business” while paying me a steady income: I applied to work at Guitar Center. As I waited to hear back, I used my last days in this office space as a going away party, getting drunk on a near daily basis, before going home and dealing with the reality that awaited my arrival.

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