Whatever the endeavor, an inner sense of discontent drives them to become a country’s heralded surfing hero being draped with a medal by judges. Once enjoying victory, a fear of losing engulfs their being, until, one day they are motionless, affixed to the red carpet of their surroundings.
If Freud were alive today he would probably blame social media for the gratification gridlock that has surfers out to prove themselves as the best in the world. Celebrated forums bury losers, while pages watch the best jocks onboard plan where to take their lives every waking minute of each day. Many end up drowned in a place that doesn’t recognize or understand their skills. Until active survivors, for their own safety, reach maturity with a desire to become more like an order of passive jalapeno nachos.