Part 2/9:
About a decade ago, I found myself grappling with feelings of sadness and existential confusion, a kind of malaise typical in young adulthood. Despite being in my early twenties—a time often associated with carefree exuberance—I felt the weight of my ambitions and inadequacies pressing down on me. I had immersed myself in the works of literary giants like Virginia Woolf and Hunter S. Thompson, aspiring to one day create my own masterpiece. But the realization dawned on me that I wasn't special; I was just another wannabe writer chasing an impossible dream.