Music and skateboarding are more than hobbies for me—they’re lifelines, a rhythm that’s fueled my soul since I was young. The way a board connects with the pavement or how a beat syncs with my thoughts—it’s an addiction. In a strange way, it’s an addiction far deeper than any substance I’ve ever touched. I’ve been battling nicotine since I was 9 years old. That’s 26 years of smoking cigarettes, and even though I’ve always been upfront about it, I know it’s been killing me slowly. Still, something in me keeps holding on.
I just turned 35 in September, and quitting is something that’s on my mind constantly. But every time I try, it feels like I’m giving up a part of myself. Maybe it’s the same stubborn energy that keeps me riding my skateboard despite the bruises, or writing music despite the noise of life.
It started with rap. I was just a kid when I first started spitting rhymes, but I was hungry for a way to express what was building up inside of me. Somewhere along the way, though, I strayed. The music shifted, or maybe I did. But the connection to sound, the flow, never left me.
What drives me isn’t just what I learn about the world, about God, history, balance—it’s what I share. Teaching others, learning from them, that’s the real high. I try to be the kind of influence that my kids can look up to, but smoking…it’s like this tumor that’s latched onto me. I warn them about it, tell them it’s a mistake I’ve been living with for most of my life. And yet, part of me wonders, can I really let it go?
Maybe music, skating, and the battle with cigarettes are all pieces of the same puzzle. A struggle to hold on, a fear of letting go. But every time I get on my board, or pick up a pen, or try to quit smoking, it’s another chance to rewrite the story.
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