The Holy Session

The sun was shining brightly as I made my way to Quad Studio in Times Square, feeling a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Having negotiated a deal with label executives for Brittany’s music, I pushed open the doors of the iconic studio, feeling like this was destiny. I was consumed by my work with Brittany, and it was both an escape from the struggles in my marriage and a chance to prove my worth in the music industry. As I entered the recording space, I was greeted by a group of strangers – the label executive, songwriters, and producers. They all seemed friendly enough, but there was something odd about the atmosphere that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. As we began the session, their religious beliefs quickly took center stage. They would stop the music abruptly and break out into fervent prayer, leaving me feeling increasingly uncomfortable and disconnected. With every moment that passed, I felt a growing urge to escape. The stifling atmosphere in the room, combined with the weight of my personal struggles, pushed me closer and closer to the door. And once I stepped outside, I found myself being drawn to the nearest liquor store as if on autopilot. My body craved the numbing sensation that alcohol would bring, and I couldn’t resist the temptation. I drank heavily that night, allowing the alcohol to consume me as I’d allowed my work with Brittany to do the same. The more I drank, the angrier I became at the world, at my marriage, and at the suffocating situation with the label. In my drunken haze, I made the impulsive decision to write an email to everyone involved in the project. My anger, frustration, and disappointment poured out into the words, leaving nothing unsaid. The next morning, my head pounding and my stomach churning, I woke up to the sobering reality of what I’d done. The email I’d sent in my drunken state had effectively ended the deal between Brittany and the label, leaving her dreams in tatters. I’d allowed my demons to take control, and now everyone – including Brittany – had seen the worst of me. As I sat on the edge of my bed, a sinking feeling of guilt and shame washed over me. I had been given an opportunity to help someone I cared about and to make a difference in the music industry, but my own self-destructive tendencies had sabotaged it all once again. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was any hope for redemption, or if I was destined to remain a prisoner of my own weaknesses, forever longing for the greatness that seemed perpetually out of reach.

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