Yesterday, at work, things moved. Really moved.
The Telegram mini app I’ve been developing for weeks — the one that had its specs changed three times, the one I rebuilt from scratch when the boss’s brother decided to redo everything — has become something else. It’s not a mini app anymore. It’s a CRM. A real business management system, built inside Telegram. Automations, a shop, a complete client tracking flow. And it’s not even finished — there are still plenty of updates to come. But for the first time, the product holds up. And you can feel it.
The proof: we landed our first big client. Not a curious visitor. Not someone testing things out. A real client, operating in nearly ten countries, who signed up for several of our services. He came through an ad I created, shared across Telegram groups. I made the ad. I made the app. I made the shop. I made the automations. And now, an international client is using what I built.
The meeting with the company leadership is scheduled for April 6 or 7. We’re going to sit down, talk about roles, talk about money. I still don’t know what it’s worth. I don’t know the market. But I know one thing: everything that exists in this app today, I built it. Screen by screen. Feature by feature. Night after night. If it takes off, I hope that will be reflected. If not, I’ll have at least learned how to build a CRM in a few weeks. And that’s a skill no one can take from me.
This morning, I gave $210 to my father. It’s nothing compared to what I owe him. But I try to give him something every week. Not because he pressures me — he’s patient, incredibly patient. But because it’s my way of telling him I haven’t forgotten. That every week, even when money is tight, even when bills are piling up, he comes first. He’s my father. The debt is one thing. Respect is another.
There’s something I never talk about, and that I’d like to get back to. When I was younger, I used to walk. Not to get somewhere — just to think. Long walks with no destination, no earbuds, no phone. And it was during those walks that my best ideas were born. The online appliance business, the dropshipping, the solutions that got me out of impossible situations — all of it was born while walking. Today, I don’t walk anymore. I’m always in front of a screen, always coding, filming, answering, delivering. My body is sitting but my mind is running a permanent marathon. I’d like to control my time better. Get those walks back. Because I know the solution to my problems won’t come from yet another sprint behind a keyboard. It will come from a moment of calm, somewhere between two streets, when my brain finally has room to breathe.
I don’t set an alarm anymore. At my first waking, I get up. It’s my only rule. Letting my body decide what my mind refuses to admit — that you need rest to move forward.
What today taught me: The first client is proof that what you’re building has value. Not the value you imagine — the value someone is willing to pay for. That’s the only kind that counts. But don’t let the excitement keep you from taking care of yourself. The best ideas aren’t born in urgency. They’re born in slow movement, in silence, in steps taken without knowing where they lead. Walk. Even if you don’t have the time. Especially if you don’t have the time.
Day 8.