This is what my life looks like: failure to failure, all but that, all but that.

When starting something new, like the enterprise I’m in now, it’s easy to be seen as the one making mistakes—even when that’s not the case. My first thought was to confront the situation and show my anger. But I’ve changed my mind. Instead, I’ve decided to be more assertive. Stop acting like I know nothing. Stop it. I must stand firm in what I know and confidently ask questions about what I don’t.

It’s time to take action. Otherwise, I’ll become the guy who makes mistakes that others have to clean up. No. This won’t happen. I will not make mistakes for others to deal with. Before I turn 23, I will be in the kitchen. This is my objective, and I will achieve it. Good luck, buddy.

I have to prove my competence—not for anyone else, but for myself.

How funny it is to read these lines now. I succeeded in becoming part of the kitchen, but I was never truly considered part of it. Why? Because despite my desire to belong, despite proving my willingness and determination, I lacked the courage to say no. I didn’t have the strength to stick to my objective.

Instead, I created excuses for myself. I made up stories to justify my choices, just like I did with Nathasha when I moved to the administrative side of things. And now, I am not very confident when it comes to cooking.

This is a failure, and I must admit it. I failed to reach the goal I set for myself. I left Martial without learning how to cook, even though I told myself I’d accomplish that by the time I was 23.

So, what now? What’s next after this? Who can I blame? No one but myself—my inability to say no, to others and to myself. I didn’t even take the time to think when the chef suggested I move to administrative work. I let it go, just like that.

Something real, something concrete—like cooking—that’s what I wanted. And I failed. I told myself I’d make myself indispensable in the kitchen, ensuring everything I did contributed to the team. But now, the truth is this: people don’t care about what I’ve done outside the kitchen. Logistics and admin don’t matter here. What matters is what I’ve built within the kitchen itself.

I cannot let this cycle of failure define me. I must break free. No more excuses. No more shifting from one role to another without purpose. No more letting others dictate where I should be.

From now on, I commit to learning from my failures—not running from them. Every mistake must be turned into a lesson. Every missed opportunity must be a step toward a better one. No more avoiding the reality of where I stand. I will take control of my own narrative. The past does not define me—what I do next does.