One of my most vivid childhood memories is of a garage door closing on a truck bed and folding like aluminum foil. Just before that happened, my brother, mother, and I all told my father the truck wasn’t fully in the garage. We discussed it before he pressed the button to close the door. While looking at the crumpled mass that was the garage door, my dad said something about how he had to try it, because we all told him it wouldn’t work. After that, he rewrote the event. The second time he told the story, it was that no one warned him. A few more retellings and the story was everyone else agreed the garage door would close safely. For him, warnings were things to be actively tested. If his way worked, everyone else was wrong; if it didn’t, he would retcon history. First, by saying there was no warning, and later by saying everyone else agreed there was no warning. Maybe he diluted himself into believing his retellings were true? I’m writing this for the ghost of a friend who will never read it. They aren’t dead, but we have parted ways. I’m not sure if this will help anyone, but I feel I must create this. To my Friend’s ghost You think you’ve been berated, betrayed, and abandoned. Not just by me, but seemingly by a great many people. Your belief is wrong, but the voice in your head must be loud. You feel I’m not…Examining Entrepreneurial Addiction (To The Ghost Of A Friend)