I had to run in a primary against a Democrat backed by all of the influential elected officials and labor unions in my district.

For a long time, I believed I would win. We recruited hundreds of volunteers, raised over $100,000, and hired a campaign team I’m incredibly proud of. We opened a headquarters in Bay Ridge that became a community hub.

And then on September 13th we lost by a little over 2,000 votes to Andrew Gounardes, counsel to Brooklyn Borough President Eric Adams. It was an effort, in hindsight, I take tremendous pride in, but on the night of our defeat I was dazed. Volunteers and staffers were crying. I stood up and somehow summoned words barely churning in a mind that I felt, in that moment, had gone gray and cold. It was over.

Did I want to become a state senator? Yes. Did I worry about entering an arena where many of the participants are egomaniacs, vultures, and oddballs unfit for just about anything other than elected office or clinging, like barnacles, to the political apparatus? Yes.

Politics can change you. You become a public figure. People project their wishes and dreams upon you, and if you are not careful, you will grow drunk on your own hype. Whether you feel it or not, you are performing—dressing better, shaving more, strengthening your handshake, brightening your smile, trying your hardest to be nice to people that, in another life, you wouldn’t necessarily associate with.