In my mind, it's hard for me to call myself a poker player.

When I think of poker players I think of young guys walking around in flip flops and basketball shorts, unshaven, trying to keep their poker face on as they go take a leak.

I've never really thought about whether or not I was really a poker player. From the time I was a kid I just thought I was one. I couldn't even beat half the people I played against. I lost often. I just always seemed to have money for the next buy-in or CD. A dollar for a Coke was much more readily available when I started playing cards. If I owed anybody anything I could direct them to any of the six or seven people who owed me money. It felt natural.

I never thought about "this guy kicks my ass all the time, how could I ever be a pro?" I probably should have asked what the hell was wrong with me when I thought I could go pro. I played tournaments and cash games at this friend's house for years before I won a single tournament. I got my ass handed to me by all the adults.

I don't know if I was delusional or just socially retarded. I just always thought I could make money from poker.

It all grew out of such an immense love for the game. I got crap from a lot of people at my high school because I always had a poker book. It was all I could talk about. I watched every single poker program on TV. I played every day at school and after school. The night I turned 18 I came home from the card room at 6:00 AM, finished a paper in an hour, and went to high school.

I was also just desperate. I went to a well-off school and guidance counselors and teachers seemed hell bent on convincing me if I didn't go to the University of Washington I'd be useless. I was told kids who went to community college weren't serious and rarely graduated to do anything.

That was a good strategy for the school. It was full of kids whose parents could afford to put them in a good college, and if they went to community college they were often just lazy. For a kid whose family really couldn´t afford it however that might not be the greatest approach. I should have been aspiring to transferring from a community college into a university, not being discouraged from it.

I just didn't think there were many options for me going into the real world, and poker seemed so wide open. Pocketfives had all these stories about 18-year-olds becoming rich. I wanted to throw myself into it.

I quit my last job when I was 18 after putting six months of expenses in a savings account outside of my bankroll. I'd made $7,000 that month at poker and $1,200 at my real job. I was just out of high school and I was making that kind of money. I was cocky. I was ready. It was time to take the plunge.

And the first three months I didn't make a cent. I lost a ton. I went nuts, drinking constantly, having nervous breakdowns. I had to move out of an apartment I was sharing with this girl, because she had a good reason to not feel safe around me.

Then I had a really cool roommate and a new place, and I started studying every day. Things started clicking. I made a couple grand the first month grinding SNGs. It was enough to get my confidence back. Months later I was playing most MTTs online and doing the APPTs. Then I went to Korea, then Malta, then Costa Rica, and on, and on...

But the whole time in my head I was wondering - how the hell did this happen? I just was playing in the school halls at lunch, then I'm travelling all over the world, and I was still a teenager.

I knew I should be grateful, dumbfounded at my luck. Instead I didn't feel much of anything. I seemed to be socially retarded and emotionally stunted. Actually doctors later would tell me I had development problems in both areas. I think I've caught up a bit now, but at the time, I was very capable of being depressed, angry, emotional, and childish - but being grateful was way beyond me.

A lot of times I'd be in the place I had at 19 - executive desk, leather business chair, huge monitors, flat screen in the background...

And I'd be like, "who the hell's house is this?"

Downswings came and nearly ruined me. I felt like a fraud.

I got back up again. Way high up, but I never trusted it.

We'd spend our money in my family before it was gone. We'd use the internet and cable till it got cut off. I'd spend my money before someone else could take it. I'd come home and find my things missing.

I didn't grasp possession. Nothing in poker suggested permanence. I never knew if I wasn't just super lucky. There were a lot of guys I looked up to who just disappeared. We were gambling after all.

See Part 2 For The Conclusion