XXI

Everything's blending together: the days, the weeks, the nothingness, the mistakes, the debt, the constant feeling of being stuck, the growing certainty that I'm just pretending to be an entrepreneur and businessman just like my uncle.

All this is just a game.

A less and less profitable game.

A constant debt with the bank and with myself.

Unnecessary and unending stress.

A plethora of issues that just replace one another.

A never-ending and always-growing stack of income that Amazon takes forever to give me.

The undenying fact that my sister-in-law—the only one who's helping me with this rn—is going to deliver her baby soon, meaning I'll be all by myself for a while.

The crushing reality that the only thing I can do right now to increase sales is to get more pieces that people might buy, but I don't really get them is bc 1) all the one I've already bought haven't arrived yet—and they're taking their sweet ass time bc of that plethora of issues I've told you before—and 2) I don't really have the money to buy more rn, and I just don't want to keep taking chunks of my life savings for that.

The numbers saying that, even though I had less inventory and experience, 2021 was a better and more profitable year than 2022—and probably than 2023.

The imaginary but soul crushing idea that I might never live by myself with this job, even though this is the best I can do.

The disappointing ease with which I deal with it.

So, yeah.