Forward I write this in limbo. I’m currently at Cornell, in my apartment with some of my closest friends. Yet I’m not a student. I’m still on my semester of leave. I’ve decided to take a break and part ways with Build. I want to work on something bigger than myself (not that Build wasn’t—those guys will build a trillion-dollar company).
I say limbo because there’s this feeling of disorderly order—no schedules, no obligations, no prelims (midterms for my non-Cornellians). There is just work. I wake up, I work, drink my cold brew, chill with friends, and that’s it. Granted, this is only the beginning. But in every new beginning, there are shimmering lights followed by the deepest void. You stare into this void and see a reflection of every insecurity, every fear, every little thing that’s weighed on your shoulders for eternity. This is why the beginning of every story ends up feeling like the end.
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