You know what's one of the most underrated life achievements someone can fully get? Complete privacy. And when you've had a life as chaotic as mine has been, it's almost impossible to grasp.

Never in my life did I think I would be where I'm at today. My career, my health, the relationships I've made, and most importantly my family, have all dealt with the struggles of adjusting to the level of fame I have gotten to in my life. I'm not going to sit here and act like everything has been butterflies and rainbows.

Growing up my parents were not the best role models to begin with. My father was an avid gambler. Only time I saw that piece of shit was when he stumbled in the house at 3 am reeking of cigarettes getting back from the casino. My mother  was a fat lazy pig who never did anything for herself. Talk about letting yourself go.  To cope from all the negativity surrounding my home life, I wanted to be what any other 17-year-old class clown with no future wanted to be: a standup comedian.

Comedy was my escape. It gave me a reason to roll out of bed in the morning. Nothing in my life made me feel better than when I'm up on stage telling jokes to random folks for a simple giggle in exchange.

At age 19, I told my mother that I was dropping out of college to pursue my dream in comedy. She didn't think too much of it. Hell, she didn't think to much about anything else unless it had ice cream with it. Her encouragement was non-existent.

After dropping out of college, I worked as a busboy at a local comedy club down the street from my buddies house. Worked there every weekend for a solid two years. Watching comedian after comedian go up there and cause an uproar of laughter in the crowd of 30 people. Something special to witness.

Eagerly waiting for my chance to take the stage, I begged the comedy club owner to let me have a chance to do an act. Thursdays are one of our slower days before the big headliners on the weekends. The owner gave me one shot and I knew I wasn't going to let him down.

Thursday night comes around, and I'm shaking in my boots. It's my first time performing in front of a live audience this big. My act felt like I was up there for 4 hours, but it might've been 20 minutes. The crowd cracked a smile every once in a while, but never rolling out of their chairs. I closed my performance and walked off-stage. Maybe 2 out of the 40 people clapped. God was that embarrassing.

As I'm making my way back to my car in pure regret of full embarrassment, I get a tap on my shoulder. Having no idea who was touching me, and already being in a bad mood, I turned back aggressively. It was the comedy club owner. He said he wanted me to do another performance next week. He liked and my potential.

Routine after routine, bigger crowd after bigger crowd, venue after venue, you guys get the gist. I became NYC's biggest comedian just 6 months later. Talk about feeling on top of the fucking world. You know what they say, attention is a pure drug. And BOY was I getting massive amounts of it.

After years of stand-up shows, movies, interviews, parties with strippers and cocaine, it gets to a point where life kinda  loses meaning. I was on top of the world and for what? I couldn't even go get a coffee without some stupid cameraman paparazzi dude begging to get any answers out of me. I got so fucking sick and tired of it.

As a young man battling through his 20s, fighting for attention, looking for some purpose to get him out of his home situation; I succeeded dearly. But at what cost?

The older you get, the more you realize that it's not always the fame, the drugs, the partying, or the money. It's about truly accepting some demons you may have with life, and making sure it doesn't control your life the way it once did.