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I have a complicated relationship with ambition. Early in my startup journey, I was wildly ambitious. Before I even knew what problem I wanted to solve, I was telling friends and family that my goal was to build a billion-dollar company. They thought I was completely off base. I assumed they just didn’t understand what it meant to dream big.

The first time I started questioning the value of ambition was in 2018, when my first company, PubLoft, failed (the early iteration, before Jason Calacanis invested). I even wrote a blog post back then called Curb Your Ambition. In it, I argued that my ambition had killed the company. If I’d been less ambitious, I might have allowed the company to grow into something sustainable. Instead, I cut it off at the knees.

It’s been over five years since I wrote that post. In that time, I’ve done a lot in startups. While each venture has been different, the one constant across my career has been ambitious visions. I’ve always had a master plan to change the world, always aimed to solve massive problems, and always sought funding because I thought that was how big visions became reality.

The System Behind Ambition

Even though I wrote Curb Your Ambition in 2018, I’ve struggled to take my own advice. Why? Because ambition isn’t just encouraged in this industry—it’s required. Venture capital relies on an endless pipeline of founders chasing outsized dreams. VCs need thousands of people trying to “go big” every year so they can invest in a few, hoping one or two will succeed. If founders collectively decided to aim for solid, sustainable businesses rather than billion-dollar moonshots, the VC model would collapse. LPs would stop funding it. GPs would need day jobs.

So the system pushes founders to aim higher. Trying to build a $100M company? Why not $1B? Why not $10B? But the gap between a $50M business and a $500M one is enormous. The sacrifice, risk, payoff, and lived experience are all different. Yet Silicon Valley often preys on founders while they’re young, persuading them that anything less than a billion-dollar dream means they’re unworthy. Many, like I did, drink the Kool-Aid and feel compelled to prove their ambition.

For me, this indoctrination started with the YC 2014 How to Start a Startup Stanford class on YouTube. YC was my entry point to startups, and they taught me that bigger was better, and I was all in. Nothing else mattered. And honestly, some of that mindset lingers. After eight years in the industry, I still feel the pressure: If you’re not aiming for billions, you don’t belong.

But after my company, Seedscout, stalled—again because of an overly ambitious decision—I decided to push back against that narrative. I no longer believe the ambition VC sells is good for most founders. I got a great job at Product Hunt and now tinker with Seedscout on nights and weekends. Ironically, I’m more ambitious now than I was when I started, but in a way that feels right for me.

Be Ambitious For YOU

I work on Seedscout very part-time. I have no plans to raise capital. I’m building it from Phoenix. By Silicon Valley standards, this looks like a lack of ambition. But in reality, I think my chances of achieving Seedscout’s mission are higher now than when I was chasing the system’s definition of success. I’m not trying to build a billion-dollar company anymore. I’m not trying to fit into Silicon Valley’s mold. Instead, I’m leveraging my almost decade of experience to execute on a thesis I’ve refined over time.

Here’s the thing: At 22, I couldn’t have had a well-reasoned thesis about how the world should work. That kind of clarity comes with time and experience. And I think that’s why Silicon Valley loves younger founders—they’re easier to mold. They’ll chase big dreams to get into YC or build something massive, no matter the odds. Most will fail, but a few will succeed, and that’s all the system needs to keep running.

I think of ambition in two forms: external ambition and inner ambition. External ambition is performative—you want others to see you as ambitious to gain something: funding, intros, validation. Anyone can claim they’re building the next big thing, aiming for $1B. Words are easy, but the market for that kind of ambition will always exist. But it can be a trap. Once you achieve those external goals, you might realize they weren’t fulfilling after all.

Inner ambition, on the other hand, is different. It’s the drive that comes from within, rooted in what truly matters to you. It’s ambition on your own terms. For me, stepping away from external pressures allowed me to reconnect with inner ambition. I no longer feel the need to prove myself to a system that thrives on my outsized dreams. Instead, I focus on what drives me—building something meaningful, at my own pace, with a vision I deeply believe in.

If you’re feeling pressured to “go big” on someone else’s timeline, take a step back and ask: What’s in it for them? You might find they’re just another cog in the venture capital machine, benefiting from your pursuit of an oversized dream that serves their business model—not yours.