“Do you ever quit?” he asks me, his tone serious. Softly, I say, “I can’t.” “Why? Even if everyone tells you that you don’t possess the right amount of talent, you’d keep trying?” “Because I love it,” I say like there is no other option. In my bones, there isn’t. I feel like I’m fighting for my happiness. And no one else can sense it or see it but me. “You’re cursed then,” he tells me. “There are people with far greater talent, who don’t love it the way that you do.”
