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I was all in now—deep in the world of local 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 in the club, and the next I’m standing in a circle at a Unitarian church, rehearsing and playin theatre games with a group of actors.

It was surreal.

I kept my worlds separate—as best I could. Most of the people I was acting with had no idea, what the rest of my life looked like...yet. And honestly? I was scared if they did know, it would mess up the balance I was trying to have. Although, my ego was getting larger and I did like the feeling of being good at selling weed. 

But as I grew into that space, built relationships with these kind, talented artists, I realized something important:

I was having fun, finding more of myself, and the real ones in the cannabis world who I worked with didn’t care.

They knew I wasn’t trying to be the grimy plug who would shoot or rob just to make a few more bucks. I wasn’t trying to be the “boss” type.

I ran my business with equality in mind. With respect.

Sure, I was naive about some of the violence happening around me—or maybe I just didn't want to aknowlege it. One minute I’m with some homies who’ve been shot at, who’ve shot back, who live and die by the game… and the next I’m sitting on a dusty church sofa, running lines from a script about magic and make-believe.

Imagine this:

I get a phone call. “Okay, I’ll walk outside. In the alley, right?”

I put down the script, stand up from the couch, and walk to my bedroom. On the wall, a painting covers the entry to my stash spot—under the house. I move it aside, grab a duffle bag with 5 pounds of grade-A fuck me so good flower, do a double check of what's inside, seal it back up, lace up my shoes, and walk out the back door.

Down the alley, I slide the duffle into the trunk of a client’s car. No words needed. No money exchanged.

They take off.

? Ticket price: $17,500
? Profit: $2K

I don’t even think twice.

I walk around the house, hop in my own car, and head to rehearsal.

Warm-ups begin.

We’re standing in a circle, some weird game starts:
“Zip!” — a hand motion and eye contact.
“Zap!” — someone else catches it and passes it.
“Zoom!” — and it keeps moving.

It makes zero sense to me, but I’m playing along.

And for once, I’m not calculating margins. Not watching my back. 

I’m just playing.

I’m just free.

It was all coming together—and I was loving every damn second of it.

My life was beginning to become full throttle living.

Drugs.
Money.
Art.

And even though I didn’t quite understand where it was all heading, I knew I had never felt more alive.