The saddest people in the world are those that have been brought as far as life can take them in the evolution of their individuality, because the longing in their soul for wholeness and singleness of self cannot be satisfied by life and one does not know what to do to fill the hollow in their soul and be the person they are destined to be, like my high school hero Ernest Hemingway. No matter how much life he experienced, he never seemed to get enough of it; like marlin fishing in the Gulf Stream, which so tested his manhood that he had to prove himself over, and over, and over again, and in the process winning trophies and adulation that fed his massive ego which in turn demanded more attention, a never-ending cycle that drove the great author to despair and suicide.