Time, as they say, is a great healer, but it’s a lousy beautician. Or, for others, there is failure. What you set out to do, you didn’t. You set out to avoid the trap of suburbia; now you’re making mortgage payments. You swore you’d never be a corporate puppet, but now your closet is full of gray flannels. You determined to leave a legacy, but all you’ve left so far is a trail of diapers and check stubs. But the real pain is deeper. For some it is the hollowness of success. Life at the top of the