The author of the piece still doesn't get it. He blames other people for his belief that nothing is his fault, oblivious to the irony of that logic. His twitter bio starts with the words "Trying to figure myself out". He looks inside himself and sees nothing; His reaction to that void is to just keep looking.

He wants more than anything in the world to be a game journalist, or a story writer, or an animator, or a game designer, or whatever, which is fine if you're a freshman, but seriously fucked up if you're several years out of college. He hasn't realised that you don't need anyone's permission to write games reviews or make short films or put together a little indie game, you just fucking do it. He is sufficiently preoccupied with the question of identity that he fails to understand that "doing x" precedes "being x".

He uses the world "passion" more than anyone who understands the meaning of that word. Put bluntly, he's a pathological narcissist. I feel desperately sorry for the guy, but not as much as I feel sorry for the people who live with him.