what is the greatest risk you've ever taken?

piecing together fragments of journal entries, part 2

I. Am I even alive right now?

At what point in this ephemeral existence will I be able to assure myself that I am, in fact, living?

Assurance in the form of written text, described to me in simple words, what exactly makes me so sure that I am no longer going through the motions, allowing the inertia that has been the previous successes of my life and the biases formed from negative encounters, these parts of me that no longer exist in the present experience, set forth the track that lead to… what? Success? Happiness?

I hate taking quotes out of context.

For illustrative purposes only:

Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.

- Fyodor Dostoyevski

See what I mean?

II. When I’m in the flow state is the only time I truly feel alive.

I guess, then, what I am seeking is the flow. When everything. Just. Feels. So. Right.

I don’t know what’s next for me, but I hold the delusional belief that I am, at some point in this life, sooner than later, going to achieve something great. Perhaps this comes from the ego, which can be dangerous. I recognize that. But right now it’s doing a great job disguising itself as rationality.

It feels rational and not emotional because there is not a single cell in my body that accepts another alternative, because my totality understands that I would rather choose death, the forever repose, then not strive for and achieve greatness at a young age.

At least the dead have a valid excuse for not trying.

I think my emotions have poisoned the rational part of my brain.

III. I’ve done the math and I know that I cannot save and invest my way to financial and time freedom.

I’ve looked at the competitive landscape and I understand that the world is out there for my taking.

I want to pick apart my deficiencies and flaws one-by-one and shape myself into the truest, the kindest, and in turn, the most vibrant version of myself. I already feel this happening, slow and steady.

I want to train myself to the pinnacle of excellence, to the point where I know that if I can just get my foot in the door—whether that be a coffee chat, an interview, some random connection, a hint of opportunity—I can guarantee myself that I will excel and I will seize the moment.

That is self-reliance at its peak, and I believe it is attainable because the world is full of everyday people who want a visionary, who want validation, who want their idea to find success, but are oftentimes too afraid themselves to take the hits, to bleed for it.

IV. I don’t know what’s in store for me in New York.

I don’t know what job I’m going to have and what’s best for me. I don’t know what’s going to happen with Flores de Oro and what is even reasonable for me to expect out of this whole ordeal.

My ego wants immediate success but every time I sit down and face an empty canvas, word document, etc., I’m hit with the clear and obvious truth that I lack skill, and it’s going to take time, as all things do, to create magic. I know in my skin and bones and the depths of my organs that it’s going to take quiet time and effort, even more than what I’ve done thus far.

Three years ago, I was someone who lived in complete apathy and without a self-made identity to nourish and grow. Through clawing myself out of this hole, I’ve learned that, when you invest as much time and effort into building yourself up as I have, you reach a natural tipping point where it becomes detrimental not to trust your instincts and not to have confidence.

I’m not asking myself to spew nonsense about things I haven’t experienced, feigning expertise and acting like my shit don’t stink. I’m saying that I need to have more respect for myself and the work I’ve put in and produced. My work took sweat and tears, precious hours of my youth, and the output must be treated with respect, first and foremost by me, before anyone else can dare to appreciate it.

If I can’t even trust myself for the work I’ve done, if I constantly discredit my experience and skills, how can I possibly expect to build on top of my foundation, to transform into something greater? There’s so much still to learn, so many skills to sharpen and nooks and crannies to explore. That’s where my energy should go. Not into endlessly replaying what I’ve already overcome.

Growth doesn’t come from shame. It comes from momentum.

In a previous life, this is the moment in which I failed. I built myself up with my own two hands, I saw myself do it, I saw myself I swear I did, but when the moment came to live and take accountability, I cowered.

It happened in a previous life, and I learned from it. It won’t happen again.

V. I must continue putting myself in these arenas to compete in, because I haven’t been racking up failures quickly enough.

In a sadistic way, I’m currently of the belief that the only way to get hardened is to test yourself by getting absolutely blown apart by an external force, and then observing whether, when the dust settles, your identity is still there—hurt, but still standing.

That’s how you know the negative energy couldn’t overpower your positive momentum.

When your positive energy meets negative energy—an opponent—and comes out on top, we progress through adversity.

Does positive always have to point right? Why can’t it point left?

VI. What is the greatest risk I’ve ever taken?

I’ve been asking myself this question everyday for the past two months. I ask it as I dip my toes into the water, feeling the chill rise up my legs, wondering if I have it in me to dive headfirst, feetfirst, bodyfirst, in any orientation, into the unknown.

That unknown, for me, is entrepreneurship. And the leap would mean quitting my corporate job.

Oh wow, another kid who wants to quit their job and chase their dreams! So edgy and original!

My mind has already crossed into this new world, and it’s screaming at my body—its toes nervously curled around the edge of the pool, staring down at the familiar, rippling reflection of self, afraid to destroy the image by jumping in with the full weight of my soul.

Never in my life have I felt so lifeless as I do while working this job. I feel lazy, belittled, and inadequate as I hold zero desire to grow my career in the corporate structure. I watch my peers and colleagues leapfrog me in promotions, and I feel nothing. I’ve collected two years of evidence that it’s time to move on, and yet I linger. Why? Why is it so hard to do the thing I already know I need to do? If I can’t jump right now, I may never be able to. It’ll never get easier than this.

I see and I understand the path to relative wealth and success in the corporate world. I know what it requires: discipline, patience, a willingness to stomach things that don’t sit right. But in order to do that, I must change in ways that feel unnatural. I’d have to become someone who plays the game better, someone who can nod through the meetings, absorb the dullness, and carry on like it doesn’t corrode something deeper.

But I believe in the greater flow of life, that experiences and energy flow into one another. While I’ve tried really hard to keep my work and passion in separate boxes, the edges always bleed, spoiling each other. I feel things deeply—probably more than most—and while that helps me see the beauty and fragility of life, it also makes it harder to tolerate systems that feel hollow. I just don’t have time for this nonsense.

Because to succeed in the corporate world, I’d have to quiet the parts of me I care most about. The parts I want to lead with—honesty, empathy, creativity—would need to shrink. Maybe one day I’ll choose that tradeoff. But not now, not yet.

Quitting my job, to me, would be the greatest risk I’ve taken by far in my life. Seemingly throwing aside my Ivy League degree, computer science major, high paying job, to chase a dream I can barely articulate.

And yet, there’s an interesting mismatch that I can’t stop thinking about. My dream, to put it as bluntly and succinctly as possible, is something along the lines of making a million dollars a year working my own hours, breathing air into my own projects, and uplifting those around me. I’m not quitting so I can laze around. I have an agenda I want to complete and I feel like I need to seize it. Now is the time to go all in on myself.

If leaving a job at 24 to chase greater upside is the boldest thing I ever do, then maybe I’ve already capped my potential. It’s time to give up on my dreams, because in the grand scheme of what I want to achieve, this is nothing.

I will inevitably have to take greater risks, so why worry so much about this small one?

Interactive! Portion! Let’s combine our brain cells.

I want to know:

What is the greatest risk you’ve ever taken?

What is the greatest risk you hope to take?

p.s. follow me on instagram @wry.mood