Setting Us Free

I barely flinch as the earthy, semi-sweet agave flavored alcohol flows down my throat. Tequila straight isn't for most people, but it's my drink of choice these days.
I'm in the middle of an incredibly pompous game of dick measuring between my manager and his colleagues. Who signed the most artists, who made the most lucrative deals, which one of these fucking dirtbags screwed more people over this year? It's become a game I don't wish to continue playing, and I hate myself for allowing Jeffrey to use me as his pop-star poster boy. I wanted to keep doing what I love the most in the world, but never at this cost.
I'm tired of it.
I need to leave.