So, I had a few drinks with the boys and called it a night, and we went back to doing whatever the hell we were doing. I gathered my bags and drum kit...and took a cab all the way home. It was getting late and could use the rest. I wanted to sl**p for days after that trip. I stepped out of the cab and headed back to my apartment. On my door was a sign that read, ‘Rent Due.’ My landlord always giving me the heads up when it came to the rent. He’ll be paid in the morning. I wasn’t planning on. They were ALWAYS painful. They ALWAYS left her panting and shaking and drenched. She would work on the stair machine as long as she was able, and be forced to stop when she absolutely could go no further. On the treadmill, she would run, seemingly at a sprint, for as long as she could, and she would only stop when it was positively impossible to go on … knowing that she would have to start again … and again and again. And so, it was with a sense of absolute shock that, sometime after she had. More

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