Last year, I was in Vegas and had been drinking. I apparently looked slouched or passed out at a machine. Security approached me, and when one of them reached toward me, I was told I swatted his hand away.
I don’t remember much else, but I woke up in the back security room, jaw broken, face covered in blood, handcuffed. The casino never called medical—just the police. When the cops arrived, they saw how bad it was and ordered a stretcher. I was taken out on a stretcher and diagnosed with two fractures in my jaw.
I flew home with a broken face, had emergency surgery, got wired shut, and ended up having two more surgeries after due to infections. I lost a tooth from decay where the fracture was. My face still shocks when I chew, and I’ve had nerve damage ever since.
The security guard was fired and charged. My own charge got dropped. But even with that… I feel like no one really understands what that night did to me. It killed a part of me. I was supposed to be a creator. My face was my brand. I haven’t been the same.
I’m in recovery now—sober, working, trying to rebuild. But that night changed my whole path. Just needed to get that off my chest.