Before I begin to write, I'd like to request that people do their best to be supportive and keep any possible negative judgements to themselves. Thanks in advance. Since about the age of 3 I've wanted nothing in my life other than to be a rich and famous rockstar. I've spent all my years working incredibly hard at that. As I matured, I fully realized the fantastic aspect of my dream, realized that I was shooting for the stars with a much better chance of being struck by lightening, and going for something that many (including myself) considered teenage and trite, but the desire never left. Folowed other career paths, worked a handful of different jobs, but playing and performing were always the only thing I ever did that felt right, it's without a doubt the thing I'm best at, and all the willingness, prayers, and spiritual guidance in the world didn't/couldn't/wouldn't quell my rockstar desires. For a little over 10 years I put swimming pools full of blood, sweat and tears into making my own band happen, and it did. On a local level. We got ourselves on a somewhat reputable indie label, sweet endorsements, a loyal local following... after about the 10 year mark band members started banging heads bigtime, and I hooked up with someone who was easily one of the most talented musicians/writers that I ever met. I started playing with this person, doing some cool tours, and finally living the "rockstar" life. Nice hotels, headlining shows, roadies, tours around the world, etc. It started to take up more and more of my time, tensions in my own band started to get worse, and with things going as well as they were with the new band, my original band disbanded. The other guys all immediately went their own seperate directions. The door to that band was slammed tight, and bolted shut. A very short while later, the talented dude I was playing with hit the bigtime, and I mean BIGTIME, like in as big as it gets. Sparing the details, a few short months after that I was dismissed and the dude refused to ever talk to me again. Reasons for that are incredibly lengthy, but suffice to say I'm not the first person that guy has done that to, and I should have realized that long before getting as involved as I did. The dude has a long history of cutting people out of his life and never talking to them again, including some immediate family members, and other very close friends. So I woke up one morning, and I had no band, no gigs, no rock stardom, nobody to perform my material any more... you get it. Found myself in the snap of a finger with nothing more than a crap dayjob, and jumped into a really crappy cover band with some friends just to keep my fingers moving, and toes on a stage. Probably would have been better to take a break and regroup, but I did what I did. And I became incredibly, incredibly depressed. Didn't realize till that day that I woke up bandless, that my entire existence and identity revolved around who I was (or more accurately who I perceived myself to be), and my "success" as a musician. It's now several years later, and while I've recovered quite a bit, the pain is still there. I still haven't stopped working my ass off musically, just haven't even come close to the kind of success I had been enjoying. The dream still hasn't died, and all the therapists in the world can't seem to kill it. So I move forward consistently putting one foot in front of the other, learning to enjoy the many other things life has to offer. Simply making great music, for one. Anyhow, I can't even begin to imagine how Pete Best felt. Wanted to vent, and wanted to see if anyone else had similar stories to share.