When you’re small and hungry, you don’t fear the future, and you never imagine that all your single-minded grit and grind can lead to you being brokenhearted and standing on a midnight beach with nothing left to lose. So what do you do when you’ve grown up with a drive gouged on the inside of your bones—play for this one thing, this one thing, the only thing I craved and yearned and strove for—and it collapses? Or when you collapse because the reality of you cannot bear the real world, burdened by your hopes and dreams?
