Everyone from my mother to my great aunt to my soccer coach to my teachers hyped up my potential, and, I now believed, every one of them had lied. “Chase your dreams,” they told me. “You’re special.” No wonder I didn’t think the rules applied to me. I had a special sense of purpose on the inside. A feeling that maybe I was a bit better than the rest. That I could do no wrong. This failure shattered that illusion and sent the artist in me retreating inwards, lying in the fetal position deep in the back of my heart.