#3. Truths entrepreneurs don’t talk about (wrapped in short prose).

I don’t know how to best put into words the toll entrepreneurship has on people but with an excerpt from my writings during my worst times as ones of this breed. Here it is. An excerpt from my book “Rise Above The Crowd” Three years after the big fall. My fall. Wrong moment, wrong people, wrong place. A perfect imperfection in the mechanism of the universe. Or just another blind choice. Or the world’s fall. I walk in circles. Smaller and smaller circles. This is how identical thousands of days feel like. I am trapped between my past and future choices. Between selves, worlds and times. It’s absolutely terrifying, but at the same time I realize it is a unique opportunity. I can choose from endless possible scenarios. This time the whole design is in my hands. Am I smart enough to be lucky? To pick the best possible story for the rest of my life? Once I do, how can I be sure and how do I get there in due time? Endless walking around the neighborhood and back again for the cheapest coffee in the park. I know all the leaves, birds and people in this place, no matter the season. Sundays. Back and forth to St.Mary church across the street. I know every inch of this road and the story of every brick of this building. More litigations in the company. The law around here is a big question mark. Endless days spent in the court of law just to learn judges mindset and to inspire from thousands of trials. Now I lost. Now I win. Now it’s even. It never gets anywhere better. The more I do the right thing, the less I am and the less I have. Why am I fighting and what am I fighting for? Values and principles. Peace of heart. Damn! This is such an expensive approach of life. Nobody told me this truth. Everyone says to give up and to move forward. I say “You don’t understand! There is no forward here and there are no shortcuts.” One apartment evacuation order. The other apartment evacuation order. Countless trips to my parents house in the country to deposit all the things from the office and from the lost homes. One car gone. The other car gone. My father is not so well. The heart, of course. No way to reach him. We are like in a network of cages here. Cages where we need to provide our own food and roof while at the same time we have to fight with countless villains, including the ones who live inside ourselves. As we are the protagonists, the others must be the villains. That’s how we were taught, right? Now he is here. Now he isn’t anymore. I am falling deeper and deeper into the spirals of a life that I don’t recognize and that I don’t validate as being mine. There is no light in here. On the margins of life there is another life, different breeds of humans, new kind of stories and other rules. Here all people turned into words. I remember I judged the people who crowded and pushed each other in church to take away as many pieces of wafers as possible. A Black Friday kind of scene. Then, I abruptly changed my mind. It happened that Sunday morning when heard the bells. I woke up and I was hungry as I have never been before. I was raised in poverty, but it was my mother’s poverty. She raised us alone and she learnt how to make us forget about it. I never tasted my own. That day I rushed to the church, waited restless for the priest to put an end to his preaching, pushed myself in front of everyone else and grabbed the wafers. And then I stopped. What am I doing? I looked around. Fallen and broken people everywhere. Different clothes, the same face. The face of poverty. Material, physical or emotional. Poor people look alike, if you noticed. I tried so much to escape it and here I am. Thinking to steal the wafers in the church. How low can I get? “How low are you willing to get?” my mind replied. Now, what is your story?

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