The Reddest Of Reds

I had another moment today. I’m only pages away from being caught up to date with writing, and officially launching Dominate The Globe. Simultaneously, HAVOC would be leaving on his European tour alongside DJ L.E.S. and Big Noyd, and with edits still actively being made on the tour deck, I was on edge awaiting any additional information I’d receive to add to the itinerary. The anticipation gnawed at my insides, as my fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type whatever new information came my way. My nerves were shot, as though I myself would be getting on a plane toward Austria, the engine rumbling beneath my feet and the weight of responsibility pressing on my chest. I’d spend most of my time writing as much as I can for the blog, the words pouring out of me like water from a broken dam, reliving memories that were equal parts painful and cathartic. Checking my phone every 10 minutes to ensure that I hadn’t missed a call or message from Storm, who I knew would be on top of things, the vibration from the device acting like a heartbeat in my palm. But with all that was happening, I took a deep breath and remembered days when I didn’t have these types of problems. Days when I didn’t know where I would sleep, or when my next meal would come. Those days seemed like a distant memory, a black-and-white photograph taken in another lifetime. The gnawing hunger that clawed at my stomach like a wild animal, relentless and never satisfied. Days when I’d spend my last dollar on a cold beer, the condensation dripping down the bottle like beads of sweat, convincing myself that the intoxication would inspire an idea that pulled me out of the depths of poverty that I’d experience my entire life. That amber liquid sloshing down my throat, the bitter taste of hops and barley tricking me into thinking it was the elixir of success. I never lasted at any day job, and my attempts at entrepreneurship had always been plagued by my alcoholism, the specter of addiction looming over me like a dark cloud, suffocating my dreams and aspirations. Those days are over, and as I closed my eyes, I could see the reddest of red carpets, the lush fabric soft beneath my feet, the long walk toward the spotlight that awaited me. The camera flashes flickering like fireflies in the night sky, the buzz of conversation as people speculated about my journey, my redemption. The way the crowd would part like the sea, allowing me to take center stage, basking in the warmth of the spotlight, the beam illuminating my face as I shared my story.

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