The hardest years for me were my early 20s. I wanted to own, possess, and call something mine. I had placed many expectations upon myself. Dreams that I wanted to attain. It was common for me to work myself to a mild headache, and celebrate that as a mark of having worked hard for the day. I didn’t know what my purpose was, but I wanted to be a billionaire. I believed that title would give me freedom. This idea had been placed unintentionally in my mind by a fast-talking, awe-inspiring entrepreneur I worked for. He was, in all intents and purposes, my mentor. And even though I never once asked him to be one, what I did was observe his addiction to making money. He inspired us; he felt like the big brother I never had. And in a room full of like-minded young people coming straight from university, he was an all-knowing oracle who hired us. I wanted to amount to something. And carried a deep d...
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