I was a musician for quite a long time. Yes, clearly people do not understand what would motivate such an undertaking.
I did get a very good academic scholarship- full tuition at any public university in the US. I wanted to be an engineer/scientist, and seemed well on my way. Sadly for my prospects, I was born into the wrong family. They limited my college choices to Anti-Intellectual Fundamentalist Bible-Beater University (“Where science is a sin!”[sup]tm[/sup]), or no support at all. I should have just run away, so obviously in hindsight I was not as smart as I needed to be right from the start.
I started out fairly popular at college- I was there on the big scholarship, I was doing well. But the popularity was a trap- once people realized that I was not a fundamentalist bible-beater, word spread and I was basically shut out of the local society. Most places I went, I had to endure the evangelical stink-eye. What a pain in the ass! But long story short, I was trapped there, they did not offer the program I wanted, and anyway it was not the kind of environment that was supportive of my success.
So, you have to understand that my career plans were ruined. It was all over for me- being born into the wrong family meant that I did not get to be somebody, it didn’t matter how well I did. I had had a music hobby going back into high school, playing in bands for fun. I didn’t have any expectation of making it big in music, but then again I no longer had any expectation of making it in anything, period. The slim chance of music stardom was infinitely greater than the zero chance of professional success, though ‘music stardom’ was never the motive for me.
No, I poured my spare energy into music because it satisfied my need for escapism, primarily. In a hostile social environment, playing in a band amounted to creating my own independent social scene, which was good for more people than just myself. The other thing to understand was just how anguishing it was to have my golden career opportunity trashed for such dumb reasons. It was good to have an excuse to yell into a microphone. Without it, maybe I would have become violent, who knows what might have happened. I really had something to get off my chest- I was being destroyed, I had art fuel.
I don’t know if people can really understand. Art fuel is not the same as talent. I never really thought I was good enough to make it big- I didn’t have enough time to practice properly, and maybe I just didn’t have the talent anyway. Making it big would have been nice but was not the point, not at all (we didn’t try to be pretty or cool, part of the schtick was a minimalist stage show). It seemed like audiences were easy enough to fool about talent though- at a certain point I was playing a lot of local shows, and people didn’t seem to notice that I was practically a hack, but rather reacted as if I were a ‘real’ musician who knew what he was doing. That’s how I felt as a performer, a hack, but it was ok, I felt a lot worse in my normal life. I had an excuse to try to write the saddest song in the world- not the whole point of the band, but one goal. I felt like the folk/blues forms were something I was clinging to like a barnacle, that if I could practice enough I could figure out how to fly free of those forms and express what I really wanted to play. It was there, too, a kind of musical vision, and I tried and tried but never felt like I really got there. Moments of clarity in certain parts of the performances, sure, but not the whole thing.
As for the saddest song in the world bit, eventually I realized that I was never going to top Woody Guthrie or Amalia Rodriguez, I just didn’t have big enough problems. I was just being maudlin. It was therapeutic ultimately- I never beat anybody up or resorted to vandalism or anything like that, furious as I was.
And no, I didn’t make it. I finally got out of that place and into a place I really like, and as it turns out I wound up with a 6-figure job anyway. It isn’t what I originally set out to do, but I am doing pretty well, it is hard to cry about it. My experiences as a performer have actually enhanced my whole life. I don’t have as much money as I might have otherwise, but, for one thing, I get to keep my deep appreciation of music. I got to be more of a star than I ever imagined I would be, an experience I don’t think you can get any other way. I seem to have extinguished my need for a lot of attention and can focus on my success. After all those years of yelling at crowds, I seem to be able to persuade people with my voice or otherwise do little ‘glamour tricks’ (I don’t know what to call it) that seem to fly under people’s radar unrecognized as musical craft.
And those experiences probably explain why I have had so much luck with dating. I haven’t made good dating choices in retrospect, I never got married, but I could always talk someone new into dating me for a few years until things fell apart. After enough iterations of that, I think I finally figured out what to go for, and now I have the coolest gf ever, an entrepreneur who has it together and who I can relate to as a public figure because of my past experience. She’s competent, assertive, insightful, and kind of a sex enthusiast 
So, everything seems resolved for me. Yes, for a long time I was poor and/or distraught, but I never gave in and submitted to what I thought was unacceptable. I fought back in my own way, and though I really did not make it as a musician, those times are key to my present state of victory.