In my early 20s, the universe brought me towards these beautifully talented women, whose works of illustration, photography and modelling I'd admire. At the same time, I longed for a saviour figure, and secretly wanted to possess their qualities like a psychic vampire so that I could find and attract love for myself in turn - and act as a rescuer for those who'd look up to me in need.

However, these traits I sought would only bring admiration, while those women I looked up to would invariably fail me when it came to confronting my personal pain and life situation. Nowadays, it's an unfair burden to place on anyone to ask for rescue from what stems from spiritual wounding. The pleasure you get from being admired is devilishly conditional, with a long way to fall when you fail others - especially yourself, while real love emerges from within that same divine place those precious dreams are born.

The writer, Emil Cioran, said that the more talent someone possesses, the less progress they make on the spiritual level. Having talent to influence the external world is an obstacle to developing the inner life. I'd compare it with an episode of the renewal Outer Limits (Unnatural Selection), where you'd have families who are pressured into genetically modifying their children to be superior just to keep up with societal demands; there is no real love or joy to be found when people connect with you primarily for what you do or have. Whence the sense of inner destitution those outwardly "successful" people invariably face when they possess their desires.