I was a wildman.
At 23 yrs. old, I was spontaneous and reckless. A few years before this photo was taken, I got into a nasty bar fight after my first girlfriend broke up with me after 2 years. Most of the damage was done to myself by myself.
I was out partying with my hip-hop crew at the time, Da Hillz Entertainment, to get my mind off the breakup. We started off a Traditions, a dive bar near St. John's University in Queens.
We had a great night of drinking and smoking, and on are way back we decided to stop by a local Irish bar near Richmond Hill for more despite being completely hammered already.
We ordered beer and went to the back of the bar where they had a pool table. There were some fellas in there kickin' it, and the vibe seemed right at the beginning.
One of 'em said they were selling bud so I went into the bathroom with him to check it out (listen, weed was still very illegal back then and we weren't taking chances). So he pulls out this microscopic dime bag of dro and I'm instantly like, "Nah man, I'm good".
As soon as we leave the bathroom, his boys were starting to argue with my peoples. Being the drunk idiot that I am, I walk right up to there dude to try to reason with him but they were all coked the fuck up.
Before I know it, they started swingin' and I'm pretty sure I got hit with a pool stick because I had to get a couple staples in my head later at the hospital. But the fun didn't end there.
After some fists were exchanged, my boys dragged me out of there as I was raving mad, promising to kill each of those fools.
Outside the bar, I stupidly took my anger out on the front window with what had to be like a Samoan chop that shattered the window and left a deep cut in my left hand.
I was bleeding profusely, but I didn't think the damage was too severe so we went back to my boy's crib.
I took my bloody white hoodie off, along with my other crimsoned clothing, then hopped in the shower.
After rinsing the blood off, I could tell this wasn't something that was gonna heal on its own so I had my boy drive me to the hospital.
I waited in the trauma ward for 11 hours before finally getting stitched up.
I had to wear a cast for months, plus shades to cover my black eye. I remember also suffering from really bad allergies and just looking like an absolute mess in class.
I've had several similar incidences throughout my 20s, particularly involving excessive drinking. I was an impulsive character and a danger to myself.
These aren't the fondest memories for me, but they were important lessons that helped me grow and mature.
This photo symbolizes the wildness and spontaneity that characterized my persona.