I wrote something in my journal today, and I honestly don’t know what to do with it. So I’m putting it here.

How do you feel today, Mattia?

Tired. Tired of the constant pressure of having to do something, of the tasks piling up, of waking up every morning and immediately running through the list of things I need to finish because otherwise Monday comes around and I’m back to square one. Tired of the performativity, of showing up on Threads and playing the game, of turning every thought into a post, every experience into something “relatable.” Tired of forcing everything toward a result, whether it’s more signups, fewer cancellations, better numbers. Always better numbers.

Tired of agreeing on a direction and then watching it shift, of the pressure that comes with building something alongside someone else when your rhythms don’t match and nobody planned for that friction.

…

Some days I feel like dropping everything. Closing the laptop and walking away from it all.

But I don’t.

And when I sat with that for a while and asked myself why, the answer scared me (more than the exhaustion itself).

I stay because I don’t know who I am without this.

Because of the word I gave.

Because of how it would look.

Because maybe it’s just a moment, and next week I’ll wake up and feel the fire again.

Because I feel responsible for what I started and what I can still bring to it.

…

I wrote all of those down and stared at them.

Five reasons to keep going, and not a single one is “because I love it.” Not today, at least.

There’s a difference between not wanting to quit and actually wanting to stay. They feel the same from the inside, but they’re not. One is desire, the other is just fear of the void.

“If I stop, then who am I on Monday morning?” is the question that has been overwhelming me lately, more than any product decision I’ve ever made.

I’ve been building things for years. The maker identity runs so deep that the idea of not having a project feels like free-falling.

Logically, I know that stopping one thing doesn’t mean stopping everything. I built things before, I’ll build things after, and the identity doesn’t disappear. But knowing it and feeling it are very different things.

The weight I carry with me every single day, this constant thinking, is wearing me down… and it’s not worth it.

I need a little lightheartedness. I want to have fun and live life, a life worth living.

That’s all I need.

And sorry if there’s no framework or five steps or a conclusion that wraps it all up. I don’t know if this is a rough patch or a turning point.

I just know this is where I am today.

But I think some of you know exactly what I’m talking about.