The Price of Entry

Jake stood at my door holding a pitch deck.

Designed to impress people he'd never respect.

Chasing money that would never be his.

Afraid to build what actually mattered.

Another sheep dressed for slaughter.

Programmed to beg for permission to build what nobody was stopping him from creating.

You probably found me the same way Jake did - desperate for someone to tell you the truth about why everything feels wrong.

Here's what the fake gurus won't tell you: that feeling isn't depression or laziness - it's your agency fighting back against a system designed to kill it.

Most people lose this fight by twenty-five.
They trade their agency for a salary.
Then spend the rest of their lives teaching their children to surrender faster.

But you're different. Or you would have closed this book three sentences ago when I called you desperate.

The question isn't whether you're different - it's whether you'll stay different when everyone you love starts treating your agency like a mental illness that needs curing.

They'll show you articles about entrepreneur depression. Statistics about startup failure. Documentaries about founders who lost everything.

All to prove they're saving you from yourself.

What they won't tell you is this: every article they send, every statistic they quote? It's really them justifying why they gave up on their own dreams twenty years ago.

It's called projection.
And projection is a low-agency person's crutch.

You can spend your life collecting their approval like Jake collects pitch deck feedback. Or you can build something that makes their opinions irrelevant.

Agency isn't something you have. It's something you protect. Every day. From people who think their comfort matters more than your calling.

Every morning you wake up, someone will offer you comfort in exchange for a piece of your agency.

A steady paycheck.
A safe relationship.
A respectable path.

And every time you say yes, you become less capable of saying no.

I didn't write this book to motivate you.
Or inspire you.
Or make you feel better about your potential.

I wrote it to show you exactly how the system turns builders into beggars. And more importantly, how to stop letting it.

Jake left my office that day with the same pitch deck he came with. But something had shifted. For the first time in three years, he saw the deck for what it was. A permission slip to avoid building what scared him.

The next time someone offers you comfort, stability, or approval in exchange for just a small compromise, you'll remember this moment. The moment you chose. Protect your agency or trade it for their version of success.

The price of entry is kinda like leaving a cult... you gotta lose your whole family so you're not drinking the Kool-Aid they're passing around.