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When Every New Project Feels Like the Next Billion-Dollar Idea

October 22, 2025•4 min read•
#Self

Lately, I’ve noticed a pattern in myself. Every time I come up with a new idea for a project, I immediately feel like it’s going to be huge — like this could be the one. The next billion-dollar idea. The one that changes everything. It starts with a spark. Maybe it’s a thought that comes while I’m scrolling on X, or something that pops up in my head before bed. I get excited. My brain starts spinning: I could build this. It’s genius. No one else is doing it like this. The next thing I know, I’m opening a new folder, setting up a new repository, buying a domain name. I can already imagine how it looks, how people will use it, maybe even how I’ll tweet about it when it’s done. And for a few days, I’m unstoppable. I can code for hours. I don’t feel tired. The idea becomes my world. But then, it fades. A week later, I’m bored. The code feels heavy. The idea starts to lose its shine. And quietly, I move on — leaving yet another unfinished project behind.

I Think I Fell in Love With the Fantasy

If I’m honest, I wasn’t just building products. I was building fantasies. Every idea came with a little movie in my head — of success, recognition, and freedom. But the more I chased that, the less I actually finished. I used to think I had a motivation problem, but I don’t think that’s true anymore. What I actually had was a dopamine problem. I was addicted to the feeling of starting something new — the rush, the sense of potential — not to the slow, sometimes painful process of actually building it. The moment that excitement disappeared, I’d start telling myself,

“Maybe this isn’t the right idea. Maybe the next one will be easier.” But it never was.

The Dangerous Illusion of “This Could Be Big”

There’s something dangerous about believing every project could be the next billion-dollar idea. It sounds empowering, but it quietly sets a trap. Because when you convince yourself that everything has to be big, you stop appreciating the small. You stop building for learning. You stop exploring. You start optimizing everything too early — for imaginary users, imaginary investors, imaginary success. And when reality doesn’t meet that fantasy, you quit. I’ve done that so many times that I can now recognize the pattern almost instantly.

What I’m Learning Now

I’m slowly trying to unlearn the habit of chasing excitement. I’m learning to find joy in small progress. Here are a few things I’ve been reminding myself:

  • Not everything I build needs to scale. Sometimes a project can just exist — for me, for fun, for learning. That’s enough.
  • Excitement isn’t a sign of success. It’s just the starting point. The real test begins when the excitement fades.
  • It’s okay if it gets boring. Boredom means I’m moving past the fantasy and into the real work.
  • Consistency is more powerful than intensity. I used to sprint in bursts of passion. Now, I’m learning to walk — slower, but longer.

Maybe It’s Not About the Billion-Dollar Idea

I think a part of me always wanted to prove something — that I could build something big, something meaningful. But the older I get, the more I realize that what really matters isn’t how big it becomes, but how real it feels. I don’t need another billion-dollar fantasy. I need more finished things, more lessons learned, more quiet pride in the act of creating. Because the truth is — the most valuable project I’ll ever build might not be an app. It might just be myself.