14 · Punished Dreamers

Why am I the one getting punished for dreaming unfathomably big? I thought this was something God was supposed to help me through. Why am I going through failure in every single thing? I am the hardest working person I know. I pour in hours — not just hours but iterations of critical analysis. I have high pain tolerance, I ingest sheer volumes of knowledge, I read endless books, I take huge risks, I watch videos at 3x to increase throughput — and why am I still the slowest person in the entire world, it feels like? There's no way I'm taking another gap year; at this point it's an addiction. I'm 24 fucking years old, the peak of my life, where is the fun, where is the "20s are the best time of your life"? I really, really want to stop dreaming. It's comedic at this point. I'm clearly mentally ill for being this delusional. In reality you're just some guy who keeps shooting at the stars, with no work ethic, who finds a way to fuck up everything he touches, who breaks vows, falls to lust, spends his dad's money — while college dropouts go from zero to $10k a month in ninety days and to $10 million ARR in four years. What am I doing? University is just not important. But the fact that I could be the best mathematician in the world haunts me. I started this journey of self-exploration after high school — from year 12 until now I have whipped myself into higher grades, more growth, juicing out everything I have. And yet I am the biggest failure. Why?

Why can't I just stop all this quant, intellectual bullshit, do door-to-door sales, scale an online business selling stupid stuff, make $10k a month and be set? Why do I need to work so hard on something I can't even explain — this obsession from I don't know where? Countless nights fidgeting after doing God knows what, doing stupid prayers, holding my rosary, praying to a God that has a high probability of not existing.

God, I need a hug.

Oh Jesus — if I had only known I would be penalised with failure just for having a big dream. The world told me the bullshit lie that you can do anything you want, and that is masochistic. I don't need happiness. I just need some breathing room. Every day for the past half decade it has felt like I am drowning deeper, and every single day a part of me prays for just a moment of air that never comes. I feel so close — not even a micrometre, it's right in front of me — and yet nothing happens. Christ, do something. What is wrong with this world? Why do drug dealers and people doing manic shit get the happiness? What did I do so wrong to deserve this? Why can't I dream? Why do I have to feel like crying every single night?

You're already beyond crazy. Nobody would ever go an inch further from here. You have every right to say fuck it, I'm out, I'm not doing this. But you're here. Unfazed. All the mental and physical pain you voluntarily engulf gets forgotten, and all that is left is the person you become. So why not maximise the pain and suffering you overcome and become a legend? Why not do the hardest possible things, let them completely break you, and revamp yourself daily for the next eighteen months? That was the vow you signed — willing to work eighteen hours a day for the next eighteen months. Make it happen.

Do not accept dying a failure just because of some detours. You have so much ability despite them. You can transcend your failures. You are greater than your failures; you are greater than your problems. You can overcome this, and you will.