“If I’m not famous by 30, I might as well put a bullet in my head.” That’s an actual sentence I spoke to one of my closest friends. At the time, I was 28. Fortunately, unlike during my darkest period in college, I wasn’t serious about suicide. Nonetheless, the sentiment was real. I felt like I somehow needed fame. In retrospect, there was a lot of self-loathing from tough childhood experiences, and I desperately hoped that love from without (i.e., from masses of other people) would somehow make up for hate from within.
TIM FERRISS
