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The show is over.The lights dimmed.The applause faded.And I was back to… this. Same basement.Same grind.Same smoke-filled mornings. But now, something felt… off.A quiet tug at the soul. Like a ghost of something beautiful I’d just touched, now gone too soon. Maybe it was the weed.Maybe the alcohol.Maybe just the weight of hard living. But if I’m honest? It was the absence …

The lights are bright.The audience is packed.My heart is beating fast, but I’m breathing through it. This is it. No turning back. Fuck.What if I forget my lines?What if I miss my cue? I peek through the curtain.My mom and stepdad are out there, front row, ready for a performance they will have no idea how to process. I chuckle to myself—they’re about to witness some pure theatre …

“Ahhhh…” I wake up in a cold sweat, head pounding like a bass drum in a tunnel. Vision’s shot—no glasses, no contacts. I’m blind, confused, and feel trapped in my basement apartment, two very different worlds pressing in. The more that I got into the arts, the more I felt at peace. It felt right.The deeper I got into black market cannabis, the more I felt …

I was all in now, deep in the world of community theatre. And man… what a scene. The juxtaposition of it all was wild. One minute I’m in the streets, flipping pounds and spending weekends under the neon glow of a club, and the next I’m standing in a circle at a Unitarian church, playing theatre games with actors. It was surreal. I kept my worlds separate—or at least, I tr …