The sun rose on what should have been a joyous occasion – my wedding anniversary with Brenna. But instead of waking up to a day filled with love and celebration, I was greeted with the somber realization that FirstLive CoffeeHouse was closing its doors. As I lay in bed, I couldn’t help but feel a bitter sense of déjà vu. Just when I thought I had turned a corner in my life, tragedy struck again. The morning show, “Good Morning Bushwick,” had been my lifeline. Broadcasting two hours a day, five days a week, I had poured my heart and soul into it, managing everything from marketing to promotion. But with the building department’s decision, all those efforts seemed to have been in vain. I had been so proud of the progress Bud and I had made, especially after I pushed through the pain of my sister Angie’s death. Now, it felt like I was back to square one. As the news spread, social media went into a frenzy. My phone lit up with countless messages asking what had happened to the morning show. The weight of this public failure bore down on me, and I could feel myself sinking deeper into depression. I tried to ignore the messages, but they kept coming. Each one felt like a dagger through my heart, reminding me of all the dreams that had been crushed. As my depression worsened, I used alcohol to escape my reality. Despite the darkness that enveloped me, Brenna never left my side. She saw me at my worst, but she refused to give up on me. As we tried to navigate through this difficult time together, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. I was supposed to be her rock, her partner, but instead, I had become a burden.

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