When you’re a kid, you think you can do anything. You have dreams, and you are convinced that by the time you’re this old, you’ll have accomplished them. But then, it’s like one day, somewhere along the way, you wake up, and you’re more tired than you used to be. Things seem harder than they used to be. That feeling grows, and grows, until one day, you finally realize it: You can’t actually do anything. You won’t be the best at what you do, like you wanted to be. It requires too much work, and you’re already too tired. Jealousy is hardly a thing by now, knowing everyone to achieve more than you has probably worked harder than you do. They are stronger than you are, more talented, smarter, and more determined.
Later on, you wake up, and you remember who you thought you would be by now…and you are not who you thought you would, or wanted to be.
You see other people being who you thought you would be or wanted to be. You look at them, the things they do, and it hurts. Somewhere along the way, something got broke for you or something.