I can empathize with much of what he wrote. I built a fairly popular site back in the late nineties that I only finally terminated in 2010. It had a very dedica

I can empathize with much of what he wrote. I built a fairly popular site back in the late nineties that I only finally terminated in 2010. It had a very dedicated community of about 100,000 people and did many millions of dollars in business (not for my benefit - the service itself was free, on principle). I spent so much of my life working on it. I wrote the software behind it, designed the presentation, handled the customer service, mediated disputes, handled the promotion, and helped with user-founded real-world gatherings built around the community on the site. It required so much of my attention and, unfortunately, often was so hostile and venomous that the only reason I stuck with it for many of the later years was out of a sense of obligation to the community (many people made friendships through the site, met spouses, established real world businesses, and even put themselves through school thanks to the site) and a sense of obligation to myself . . . I put in all of my 20s and part of my 30s dedicated to the site and service. Hours and hours every day. I put in enough time that it was a second full time job -- not counting the $25k of cash I put in over the years. I had real life stalkers via the site. I had harassment via my email, IM, and even via local authorities (with such a large community, there are bound to be a few crazies). Hell, even just my email inbox was depressing. For the last 3-5 years of the project, I felt sick every time I would visit my own site. Sicker when I would check my own email for it. To the point that I would go months without going to my website . . . and more without checking my email. At one point, it was so bad that my inbox had 1.1m messages (that is AFTER filtering out spam). The only thing worse was considering shutting it down. It was a part of me. It was probably my biggest accomplishment at the time. A lot of people dream of building such a huge successful community from top to bottom with their own hands for so long, but never get anywhere close to achieving it. How could I give that up, no matter how much grief it caused me? I'm not exactly sure what pushed me over the edge, but in 2010, I finally shuttered it. I felt bad for it. I still felt obligated to them and to myself . . . but I sensed I had to move on. And since then, I have had this great sense of relief. I have time for myself and time for other potential future projects. I am no longer forced to dismiss other opportunities, because of the obligation I had to this project. I no longer felt sick thinking of my email. I no longer felt like a prisoner. I felt like I had more control over each day of my life and what I did with it. I have never been one of those people who sticks in a relationship just because leaving it would make all the invested time "feel like it was wasted". When a relationship goes bad, I move on and don't look back or even keep in contact. I'm good with that. This experience, though, gave me a little insight into all the people out there who have a hard time leaving relationships. Even unsatisfactory ones. Life is short and you only have so much time and energy to put into things. When you have given so much into one thing, it can feel like moving on is a bigger loss than sticking around. I totally get that, now. But, in the end . . . it was a great choice. For him, it might also be the right choice. All of the "if only things were different" thoughts and all of the motivation to take the reign to chance those things in the community are great, but . . . ultimately can become a way of simply keeping you tied down to the very things that make you regret what you're doing. When that becomes clear, the choice to move on has to be at the forefront.