He was a champion. He lived on his own with his parents, and they in turn lived on thier own. It was a very lonely place. There was no one to talk to, once in a while he would snatch a few moments with his mother but they wouldnt talk about philosophy or the ways of the world as she was too stubborn and all that she thought about was shopping and other materialistic pursuits like worrying about money. If you are that worried about money then it is not constructive to waste the majority of it on materialistic shit that you dont need.
The champion wanted to travel the world and become learned in the ways of humanity and hopefully give somthing back in payment for all the delicious knowledge that had been soaked into his being, and the more he learned the more pourous he would become and the more pourous he became the easier it was to learn and to accept the more eccentric and bizarre cultures and the easier it was to find love and not worry about stupid shit that did not matter. He wanted all this, he wanted all this without ego, without any hint of pretention.
But most of all he wanted to inspire.
Waking up early one morning for a change he struggled against the mind and body numbing depression he always felt. He stuggled with it and seeked out the cause of it. The cause of it was lack of achievement, the fact that in over 2 decades of being around on this planet he had achieved nothing. Locating the source of the depression only made the depression worse and more tangible and easier to understand. With understanding he could not rise above the biological fact, that he was a human being and he fitted in. He fitted into the "prone to depression" demographic, and in this involvement there was no escape. He sat up, his body ached. He shook his body and his mind. Firing neurones in a random colourfull fashion. (all style no substance)