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Today wasn’t a bad day, but I feel the need to write. Sunday nights are hard for me, because it means getting up tomorrow to go to a job I hate, a place where I have to hide my true self because they can’t handle it. I desperately want to run my own business, but of course have no money. My credit is actually pretty good, but they will rarely finance anything all-out these days, and there’s still a chance it would fail.

I am so afraid of failure. I wish I wasn’t. I wish I was as strong as I make myself out to be.

But research doesn’t hurt anybody. I’m going to contact our local SBA and talk to someone. I think I have a viable idea, it’s just a matter of fund raising, or loan qualification. I think I even found a great location, with no local competition anywhere close. I even have friends willing to come work for me, because their jobs suck and I would pay them the same amount, if not better.

Can I do it? Yes. Am I scared to death? Absolutely. But just sitting here hating myself because I hate what I’ve become isn’t right. Isn’t living.

I’m too young to feel this damn old.

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