The last two years. Angry, upset. Happy. Really upset and really angry. Ecstatic like crazy. Fucked up. Drunk. Healthy. Wasted. Best shape of my life. Worst. Addict. I spent the summer not working. I had money. I had no money. I had less than no money. I worked. I was bored. Hope was fleeting. I moved in with my parents. I lived on my own. I moved in with a friend. Thank fuck.
I drifted.
I freelanced.
I interviewed.
…
I’d had everything.
Then everything disappeared.
Then nothing. Nothing for a long time.
“Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you got til-” Yep.
I waited.
I interviewed at Victoria’s Secret in New York.
I didn’t get it. I designed the best book in the world. Buy it.
I drifted.
I fantasised about taking my life in another direction. Grasping at a new hope. Make a short movie. Bar job. Move to America illegally, fuck it. Homeless. Anything to escape. Open a cafe in Stoke Newington, a shop, a bar, a space. Open one in America. Anything.
Nothing changed.
Time heals everything. Maybe, but time is fucking slow when you don’t want it to be. I mean, it takes two years for two years to go by. Two years is a fucking long time when you don’t want it to be.
I put another ad up on AngelList.co looking for a developer. Just grasping.
…
Then, a few weeks ago, I get an email.
A guy called Desmond. An iOS developer.
“Sounds like it’s been quite the adventure so far.” he says, “I’ve been looking for a designer to partner up with for a while. You seem talented and driven so I’m definitely interested.”
We discuss ideas. I bring Paul into the conversation. We chat about building a product. We chat about starting an agency. We chat about Story.
Story’s dead. Its moment passed us.
Paul has a small idea he’s been playing around with. We talk about that. We start working.
First time in two years, I have hope. Desmond, Paul and me.
We’re starting again. Something small at first. Really small. 42mm to be exact.
