This (notion page) is beautiful to type into. I'm quite enjoying this. I want to make something that makes people as happy as I am right now doing this. It's been two years working on our project full time. I knew anything that I'd do would take time and as much sweat equity as we could muster. This last year was especially trying.

We shut down Spree, which was exciting inherently because it was odd and controversial, but flawed due to it's failings as a money making machine. We shut down Masonic, the first time we made a scaling and sustainable business, but shuttered due to the competitive and commoditized nature of accounting. Both painful failures, each with their own unique flavor and texture.

We lost S as a teammate, and I fear I lost him as a friend. I lost R. Falling for one of my oldest friends and watching that relationship dissolve into a mess has made it easy to question everyone in my life and recoil into my own head. I feel I’m not as trusting and open as I have been in the past, qualities which I dearly value in myself and others. I fear that if they never come back in whatever way, shape, or form I won't be able to look back on our time together fondly.

I won't forget feeling scared as I was driving my dad around Los Angeles trying to find a doctor we feel comfortable doing his open heart operation, and then how helpless I felt when a once in a generation pandemic kept me apart from my family when they needed their eldest son. How hurt R made me feel, and how much sadder I was when I hurt her. How lost we were in Orlando when we realized when Spree wouldn't be great even on its best day. How defeated we where when A let us know Pilot shot her an acquisition offer. How lonely the first part of 2020 has been, separated from those I care about and without a vivid picture of what my next project looks likes. How exhausting the search for that idea has been.

Which means I need to remember how generous it was of J to come help me support my dad. How amazing it felt to hold R while watching Childish and getting lost in the fog and trees, when we were watching CM in bed, or as we lost track of time laughing at her stories from school. How fortunate I was even to argue with her, to have someone love and care that much 2,422 miles away. How lucky we were to go through YC, and are to have the continued support of some of the smartest and reputable people of my generation. How energizing it was to work with hosts like D, and the brands that took a bet on us. How fulfilling it felt to help people like me figure out how to make their companies work and make them feel a bit more secure on their crazy journeys. How blessed I am to have never doubted what I want to do with my life.

Scriptwriters would be thrown out of studios for pitching a timeline so exaggerated and chimeric.

It was worth typing all of that out, but a struggle at that. I'm not good at letting myself have a release. I feel immense guilt for complaining or feeling sorry for myself. I need to acknowledge it's relieving to see it all written out, and even better that I find myself glad it all happened. A cursory scan of the above reveals loss, fear, pain, growth, excitement, and optimism. I feel I can up the volume a notch, but if nothing else this reads like a year well lived.

I find myself revisiting my lunch with T last summer. I felt lost, defeated, and a disappointment to those around me. He dubbed me the "Kool Aid Man", constantly running through brick walls. He used the analogy to illustrate how I could design my career and life in a much more productive and stable way. He insinuated that I kept doing the hard thing with little justification, and that I was likely counterproductive to my own happiness. While there's a lot of truth in his message, it's hard not to feel l enjoyed getting a little bloody along the way.

You're going to be in your mid twenties when you revisit this. I imagine it'll be easier for the consequences of your actions will exponentially feel heavier. It'll get easier to be obsessed with "where you're going". Easier to feel the weight of the world. You should, but I'm excited for you to grow into it.

I hope you live in a world where you can go to dinners, grab drinks, see the world, and enjoy the sun at parks. You should bike around SF or somewhere else in the bay once or twice a month, and keep working out. Get into cooking, or something less ubiquitous like sailing. Read and write more. I have faith that you'll still be weird.