Millionaire is launching business after business after business after business with nothing but a GoDaddy account full of embarrassingly-bad domains to show for it.
Millionaire is all your savings, maxed out credit cards, and whatever line of credit you can get your sorry debt-to-income ratio-ass approved for.
Millionaire is years of sh*tty sleep.
Millionaire is forgetting to eat for a day and a half… then ordering enough takeout to feed a family of five.
Millionaire is a bummer of a body.
Millionaire is not seeing sun for a full week – and then only because it’s garbage day and that black bin ain’t gonna roll itself out to the curb.
Millionaire is them telling you it won’t work.
Millionaire is being laughed at and mocked.
Millionaire is alienating yourself from friends and family.
Millionaire is you saying, “Maybe they’re right,” followed by, “No, f*ck that,” followed by a Starbucks run.
Millionaire is dozens of problems a day – most of which you can’t solve.
Millionaire is rolling your eyes at every business cliché, then learning the hard way that Tony motherf*ckin’ Robbins was right all along.
Millionaire is admitting you suck at pretty much everything: innovating, writing, speaking, selling… breathing?
Millionaire is a sickening commitment to self-development.
Millionaire is being addicted to checking email and refreshing stats and surfing social media and thus an iPhone that never leaves your side. Except to shower. But you know you’re asking it to recognize your freshly-washed face the second you step out. (Ya know, just in case a lead came in.)
Millionaire is knowing almost exactly what you made this month, before crunching a single number.
Millionaire is never being able to be in the moment, without worrying (or fantasizing) about business.
Millionaire is wanting nothing more than to work during that three-hour drive home from your son’s weekend baseball tournament, then getting home and finding every reason not to.
Millionaire is when, just as you’re about to quit, shut all the blinds, grab the warmest blanket you can find, and cry yourself to sleep on the couch, you refresh one last time, and there it is – a sale of your newest offer! And a wave of euphoria rushes over you. Yep! Probably the single greatest feeling you’ve ever had. (Okay, minus that one time you and your college buddy popped Percocet and watched Tropic Thunder. But still.) It’s then and there you realize every sacrifice, every sleepless night was worth it. And “millionaire” is absolutely possible.
And then, three seconds later, you can’t help but think you’d have to do that 13.89 times a day for 365 consecutive days just to gross a million dollars. And that’s when you’re pretty sure you’d sell your future grandkids to be able to go back and savor the excitement and head-to-toe pleasure that one sale just gave you.
But you can’t.
So it’s back to sulking.
Till, 45 minutes later, you’re back online, writing the next blog post.
Rinse and repeat for five more years. That’s what millionaire is to me.
