Simply put - I’m just someone giving life my best shot.

To summarise my journey: I was born in South Africa and lived there till the age of 7, when my parents moved back to our native country, Madeira. After about six years, we moved here to the UK in search of a better life.

Growing up, I struggled. I was learning English, battling social anxiety, and had little confidence. I felt insecure, was labelled dyslexic at school, and had a hard time fitting in. I was bullied, uncomfortable around girls, and eventually fell in with the wrong crowd. I started smoking cigarettes and weed, and my performance at school suffered.

I still vividly remember the humiliation of receiving my GCSE results - E's, D's, and F's. My parents were devastated, and so was I.

I got a second chance when I enrolled in college to study graphic design, but I completely blew it. I started hanging around with the "cool" kids and wanted to be just like them - an MC.

They called me Slick.

Regrettably, instead of doing my homework on the iMac my dad bought me, I spent my time writing music, making beats, watching porn, and scrolling through MySpace. That's where I met my first love. We clicked instantly, but the relationship was toxic. We were bad as each other.

At one point, I spent 3 months in prison. The relationship was abusive. She'd put her hands on me, and I'd retaliate. She cheated on me a few times, yet I stuck around - because I didn't think I could do any better. That's how little I valued myself.

the irony, considering one night I said, shall we make a baby, after getting caught trying to get my back and sleep with a woman. I thought: that would write our wrongs, and things would get better.

When she conceived my son, I fell in love with him - hard. But the arguments continued, and I couldn't stomach it around my son. So I left. It wasn't until several days later that the weight of what I'd done hit me. I realised I hadn't just left her. I'd left my son, too.

Soon, he was used as a weapon to hurt me. It used to crush me.

One night, after looking forward to seeing my son all week, I got told to f*ck off - that I wouldn't be having my son that weekend because his mum and I weren't seeing eye to eye.

That night, I decided to get on it. After my first line, all the troubling thoughts and overwhelming emotions disappeared. Cocaine became my go-to escape.

I spent 13 years living this way - chasing the high, hating my life. The only thing I looked forward to was indulging at every opportunity - pursuing pleasure to escape the misery and pain.

I was deeply, deeply troubled.

Then I met someone new. We fell in love, I moved into her house, and eventually, we had a daughter. I told myself this was my chance to turn my life around - to knock the drugs on the head, enough with all that funny business.

No, dick head here instead started using steroids, as well.

To cut a long story shirt,

One day, she ran upstairs, packed her things, grabbed our daughter, and ran out the back door, slamming it behind her. In that moment, I collapsed to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Following that, I didn't get to see my little girl for several months. I hit rock bottom. What terrified me the most was that I sadly thought, maybe slicing my throat with the kitchen knife was a good idea.

One thing led to another, one day I was inspired to create a vision board. One night, while on a come-down, I wrote on it: "I will write a book about my life."

Then the pandemic hit. That's when a light bulb went off - write the book.

The rest is history.

Love

Antonio