Oh, God, why couldn’t this have happened to me? Why couldn’t I have shouldered a career loss instead of the Cavs?
I’m a writer, for crying out loud—loss is my currency! I’m a veritable professional at rejection, wayward dreams and crushed hopes! I could have handled the career setback and then the Cavs could’ve gone on to win and then we’d be going to Boston and we’d win that one and it would be so happy, so joyous.
Why couldn’t it have been me?
The third stage of grief is the hardest.