For most of our life, we have never really been too concerned with The Odds. It just wasn't taken into account. We saw something. We wanted it. We found a way to get it. Hard work and a few lucky strokes would always get us exactly where we wanted to be. No biggie. We were cooler than a cucumber.
We should have known it would come back to bight us in the ass at some point.
*looks at ass. winces. applies an ice pack.*
So what to do when The Odds are finally staring you in the face? When they're sitting in front of you, red-eyed and workin' a wicked evil grin?
It's simple, really. You just turn away. Pretend you're six-years-old again and keep telling yourself that not seeing them is the same as them not being there at all. Because what else can you do? The Odds will never be enough of a reason to quit. The Odds will never be able to tell you to stop. Not ever.
Because how else would we be able to win?