By Hansika Tera — 21 Aug 2024

Part 3: The Road Ahead - Lessons from Building Tunology

A three-part blog series sharing my learnings based on concept created as part of TYE Entrepreurship program in Boston along with my team members.

The Question Everyone Asks (And Why It's the Wrong Question)

"So... did Tunology succeed?"

I've been asked this question more times than I can count. By friends, family, teachers, even strangers at entrepreneurship events.

And every time, I pause. Because the honest answer is uncomfortable.

No, we didn't launch the app.

No, we didn't win the TYE competition.

No, we didn't raise the $230,000 we needed.

No, we didn't get those 82,118 premium users I projected in my beautiful spreadsheet.

By every traditional metric of startup success—funding, launch, users, revenue—Tunology "failed."

The first few times someone asked me about it, I felt this knot in my stomach. Like I had to defend myself. Like I had to explain why we didn't make it. Like our six months of work amounted to nothing.

But then something shifted.

I realized: asking "did it succeed?" is asking the wrong question.

The right questions are:

Did I learn things that changed who I am?
Did we prove we could build something from nothing?
Did I discover what I'm actually capable of?
Did this journey make me better, stronger, more prepared for life?
Am I glad I did this, even though we didn't "win"?

And to those questions? The answer is absolutely, unequivocally, overwhelmingly yes.

This is the story of what happened after the pitch deck. The unfiltered truth about what it means when your startup doesn't launch, you don't win the competition, and you discover that maybe—just maybe—that's not what mattered anyway.

What Actually Happened: The Honest Timeline

Let me give you the real story. Not the sanitized version. Not the inspirational "we overcame all obstacles" version. The truth.

Where We Started (2023 Q4)

✅ Completed ideation and market research
✅ Identified the problem: 4 million underserved teens and young adults
✅ Validated the solution: music therapy + AI + community + affordability
✅ Assembled founding team of four passionate high schoolers
✅ Joined TYE program with big dreams

Where We Got To (2024 Q1-Q2)

✅ Built comprehensive financial model ($230K funding needed, 5-year projections)
✅ Defined product roadmap and feature priorities
✅ Conducted customer research with 77 respondents
✅ Developed competitive positioning strategy
✅ Created MVP wireframes and user flows
✅ Assembled advisory board (Marcela, Tadeo, Laura, Nikhil)
✅ Completed TYE program with full pitch deck
✅ Learned more than we thought possible

Where We Are Now (The Uncomfortable Reality)

❌ Did not launch the app
❌ Did not win the TYE competition
❌ Did not secure funding
❌ Prototype development paused indefinitely
❌ Team dispersed for college applications and life transitions
❌ Tunology exists as a pitch deck, not a product

But Also Where We Are Now (The Part That Actually Matters)

✅ Four high schoolers became founders
✅ I discovered I love finance and strategy
✅ We proved we could take an idea from concept to business plan
✅ We learned skills most people don't get until their 30s
✅ We have a story that changed our college applications
✅ We know what we're capable of
✅ We're not afraid to try again

On paper, Tunology failed. In reality, it succeeded in ways I never expected.

The Day We Didn't Win: What Nobody Tells You About "Failure"

I remember the TYE competition day vividly.

We'd practiced our pitch dozens of times. I knew every number in our financial model. I could recite our competitive advantages in my sleep. The pitch deck looked beautiful.

I was nervous but excited. We'd worked so hard. Six months of late nights, sacrificed weekends, missed parties, strained friendships. We'd poured everything into Tunology.

And then we watched other teams present. Some had working prototypes. Some had already launched. Some had revenue. Some had partnerships with real companies.

We had a pitch deck and a dream.

When the winners were announced, Tunology wasn't among them.

I remember sitting there, clapping for the teams that won, feeling this weird mix of emotions:

Happy for them (they deserved it)
Disappointed in us (we didn't make it)
Embarrassed (what would people think?)
Confused (did we waste our time?)
Lost (what now?)

The ride home was quiet. We didn't know what to say to each other.

Had we failed?

The Moment Everything Changed: A Conversation with My Dad

That night, I was in my room, staring at our pitch deck on my laptop. All those hours of work. All those spreadsheets. All that learning.

For what?

My dad knocked and came in. "Want to talk about it?"

I shrugged. "We didn't launch. We didn't win. We didn't even get to the finals. I spent six months on this, and we have nothing to show for it."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he asked: "What did you learn?"

"What?"

"What did you learn? List it out."

So I did:

How to build a financial model from scratch
How to conduct customer research
How to prioritize product features
How to think strategically about competition
How to present to adults who've actually built companies
How to work in a team when everyone's stressed
How to manage my time between school and a startup
How to ask for help when I'm in over my head
How to be comfortable with uncertainty
How to keep going when I don't know what I'm doing

By the time I finished listing, I'd filled half a page in my notebook.

"Now," my dad said, "tell me how much that education would cost at a business school."

I looked it up. An MBA costs $100,000-$200,000.

"You just got a world-class business education for free," he said. "Most people pay six figures for that. You got it in six months, at 17 years old, by doing the actual work instead of studying theory."

He paused. "So let me ask again: did you really get nothing out of this?"

That conversation changed everything.

The Lessons Nobody Tells You About High School Entrepreneurship

Everyone loves to tell you inspiring stories about teen entrepreneurs who became billionaires. Mark Zuckerberg at Harvard. Brian Chesky with Airbnb. The Collison brothers with Stripe.

What they don't tell you: For every one of those, there are 10,000 startups that didn't make it.

And what they really don't tell you: Most of those "failures" were actually successes in disguise.

Here are the lessons I learned that nobody put in the TYE curriculum—the lessons that only come from not launching, not winning, and somehow still being grateful for the journey:

Lesson #1: Building a Company is 1% Inspiration, 99% Unglamorous Grinding

Remember that magical moment I wrote about in Part 1? When I realized music therapy could change lives and Tunology was born?

That moment took approximately 30 minutes.

You know what took the other 99.9% of the time?

Staring at spreadsheets until my eyes glazed over
Rewriting the same section of our pitch deck seventeen times
Scheduling and rescheduling meetings with advisors
Debugging survey logic that kept breaking
Reading API documentation for Spotify integration
Writing and rewriting feature descriptions
Arguing about whether a button should be purple or blue
Sending follow-up emails that went unanswered
Staying up until 2 AM because we had a deadline
Waking up at 6 AM to finish what we didn't finish at 2 AM

The inspiration was easy. The execution was brutal.

And here's the thing: Nobody sees the grinding. They only see the pitch deck.

When we presented Tunology at TYE demo day, people saw a polished presentation with beautiful slides and a compelling story.

What they didn't see:

The 47 versions of those slides we went through
The fight Deeya and I had about whether to include certain financial details
The night before when Riya's laptop crashed and we thought we'd lost everything
The fact that I was running on 3 hours of sleep and two Red Bulls

This is the reality of building something: It's mostly unglamorous, often frustrating, and occasionally soul-crushing.

But it's also real. And there's something beautiful about that.

Even though we didn't launch, I'm glad I experienced the grind. Because now I know: I can do hard things. Even when they don't work out.

Lesson #2: "Failure" is Just an Incomplete Story

Here's what I used to think failure meant:

You tried something
It didn't work
You wasted your time
You have nothing to show for it
You should feel bad

Here's what I now know failure actually means:

You tried something
It didn't work out the way you planned
You learned things you couldn't have learned any other way
You're now better equipped for the next thing
You should feel proud you tried

The difference between those two definitions is everything.

When people ask if Tunology succeeded, they're asking: "Did you achieve what you set out to achieve?"

And technically, no. We set out to launch an app that would help millions of teens access affordable mental wellness. We didn't do that.

But here's what we did do:

We went from "four high schoolers with an idea" to "four founders with a business plan"
We went from "maybe we can help" to "here's exactly how we'd help, backed by data"
We went from "I think I'm interested in business" to "I know I love finance and strategy"
We went from "I'm not qualified to do this" to "I can figure anything out if I'm willing to learn"

Tunology didn't fail. It's just an incomplete story. And maybe that's okay.

Because the story isn't about whether the app launched. The story is about who we became in the attempt.

Lesson #3: The Real Competition Isn't Other Teams—It's Yourself

On competition day, I kept comparing Tunology to other teams:

Their prototype was more advanced than ours
They had actual users, we had projections
They had partnerships, we had plans
They won, we didn't

I was measuring our success against theirs. And by that measure, we came up short.

But here's what I realized later: That's the wrong measuring stick.

The right comparison isn't:

Tunology vs. the winning team
Our progress vs. other people's progress
Where we are vs. where we "should" be

The right comparison is:

Who I am now vs. who I was six months ago

Six months ago:

I'd never built a financial model
I'd never conducted customer research
I'd never presented to a room of adults
I'd never managed a cross-functional project
I'd never had to make hard trade-off decisions
I'd never experienced real failure

Today:

I can build financial models that actually make sense
I know how to ask questions that extract real insights
I can pitch with confidence to people who intimidate me
I can juggle multiple responsibilities and prioritize ruthlessly
I can make tough calls and stand by them
I've experienced failure and learned I survive it

By that measure? I won. We all won.

The teams that "beat" us at the competition weren't our competition. They were just on their own journey.

My only real competition was the version of myself who'd never tried at all.

Lesson #4: Skills Matter More Than Outcomes

Here's what I wrote on my college applications:

Before Tunology: "I'm interested in business and want to study finance."

After Tunology: "As CFO/CPO of Tunology, I built a 5-year financial model projecting $2.7M in Year 5 revenue, conducted customer research with 77 respondents, and learned to prioritize product features based on user value vs. build complexity. I discovered that entrepreneurship isn't about having all the answers—it's about being willing to figure them out."

Notice what I didn't write: "Successfully launched app that acquired 82,118 users."

Because admissions officers didn't care if we launched. They cared what I learned.

And here's what shocked me: The skills I gained were more valuable than any outcome would have been.

Think about it:

If Tunology had magically succeeded and made millions, but I'd learned nothing? I'd have money but no capabilities.
If Tunology "failed" but I gained skills that will serve me for life? I have capabilities that can create infinite opportunities.

I chose the path that built me, not the path that built my bank account.

And looking at where I am now—the internship opportunities, the college acceptances, the doors that have opened—those skills have already paid dividends that Tunology's revenue never could have.

Lesson #5: Entrepreneurship Isn't About Ideas—It's About Execution (And You Don't Need to Execute Perfectly to Win)

At the start of TYE, I thought having a great idea was 90% of the battle.

Wrong.

Ideas are worth nothing. Execution is worth everything.

But here's the nuanced part I learned: You don't need perfect execution to extract value from entrepreneurship.

We didn't execute perfectly. We didn't launch. We didn't get funded. We didn't win.

But we executed far enough to:

Prove we could turn an abstract idea into a concrete plan
Learn the skills required to actually build a company
Discover what we're capable of
Build something we're proud of, even if it's unfinished

That's enough.

In fact, I'd argue: The best entrepreneurship education comes from incomplete execution.

If we'd magically succeeded without struggle, we wouldn't have learned:

How to pivot when features are too complex
How to cut scope when resources are limited
How to keep going when funding falls through
How to find value in the journey when the outcome disappoints

Those lessons only come from the messy middle. From the grind. From the "failure."

Lesson #6: The Network You Build is More Valuable Than the Company You Build

When we started Tunology, I thought success meant building a great product.

But here's what I actually built:

Relationships with advisors who believed in us:

Marcela taught me about music therapy and clinical applications
Tadeo showed me how to think about distribution and scale
Laura helped me not burn out and stay grounded
Nikhil challenged my assumptions and made me think harder

These people didn't just help with Tunology. They've helped with college essays, career advice, and introductions to other opportunities.

A founding team that went through the trenches together:

Shreya, Deeya, Riya, and Bhavna aren't just co-founders—they're people who've seen me at my worst and still believed in me
We fought, we laughed, we cried, we stayed up way too late solving problems
Those bonds don't break

Connections with other TYE founders:

People who understand what it's like to try and "fail"
People who are also navigating college applications with startup experience
A network of future founders, investors, and collaborators

Tunology the app might not exist. But Tunology the network? That's real, valuable, and lasting.

Lesson #7: Timing Matters (And Sometimes the Timing Just Isn't Right)

Here's an uncomfortable truth: Part of why Tunology didn't launch is that we ran out of time.

We were high school seniors trying to:

Build a company
Apply to college
Maintain our GPAs
Study for AP exams
Do extracurriculars
Have some semblance of a social life
Sleep (occasionally)

Something had to give.

For some teams in TYE, their timing was perfect. They had summers off. They had parents who could help with funding. They had technical skills already. They had fewer competing priorities.

For us? We hit a wall where college applications took over. Where family obligations demanded attention. Where we simply didn't have the bandwidth to keep pushing.

And that's okay.

I used to think that if we'd just worked harder, stayed up later, sacrificed more, we could have made it.

But now I realize: Sustainable effort beats unsustainable hustle.

We could have burned ourselves out completely, sacrificed our mental health (ironic for a mental wellness app), ruined our grades, and destroyed our college prospects.

Or we could have done what we did: Give it our best shot, learn everything we could, and know when to pause.

Pausing isn't quitting. It's strategy.

And who knows? Maybe in college, with more time, more resources, and more skills, Tunology becomes relevant again.

The best ideas have a way of coming back when the timing is right.

Lesson #8: Your Parents Were Right (And That's Annoying)

You know what my parents said when I joined TYE?

"This is great! You'll learn so much, regardless of whether it succeeds."

I rolled my eyes. Obviously, I wanted to succeed. Learning was the consolation prize.

Turns out: They were right. (Don't tell them I said that.)

The learning WAS the prize.

Every spreadsheet I built taught me financial modeling. Every customer interview taught me research methodology. Every product decision taught me strategic thinking. Every pitch I practiced taught me communication. Every failure taught me resilience.

The app was the excuse to learn. The learning was the actual value.

My parents knew this. Because they're adults who've lived long enough to know: Short-term outcomes matter less than long-term capabilities.

Whether Tunology launched is a short-term outcome. Whether I gained skills that will serve me for decades is a long-term capability.

I wanted the outcome. I got the capability. That's a better deal.

(Still not admitting to my parents that they were right though. I have SOME pride.)

Lesson #9: High School Entrepreneurship is a Privilege (And I'm Grateful I Got to "Fail")

Here's something I didn't appreciate at the time: Most high schoolers don't get to try entrepreneurship at all.

Most high schoolers don't have:

Access to programs like TYE
Supportive parents who encourage "risky" activities
Time to dedicate to something outside of academics
Advisors willing to mentor teenagers
A team of equally passionate peers

I had all of that.

Which means: Even though Tunology didn't launch, I was incredibly privileged to have the opportunity to try.

Some people are 40 years old before they get their first shot at entrepreneurship. They have mortgages, kids, responsibilities that make failure genuinely scary.

I was 17. If I was going to "fail," this was the perfect time to do it.

No dependencies. No financial obligations. Just pure learning.

I got to fail at the exact right moment in my life when failure had the lowest cost and the highest educational value.

That's not a consolation prize. That's winning the lottery.

Lesson #10: Success Metrics Change When You Grow Up

At the start of TYE, here's how I defined success:

Launch the app: ✅ or ❌
Get users: ✅ or ❌
Win the competition: ✅ or ❌
Raise funding: ✅ or ❌

By those metrics, we failed on all counts.

But now, six months later, here's how I define success:

Did I learn skills that changed my capabilities? ✅
Did I discover what I'm passionate about? ✅
Did I prove I can take an idea from zero to business plan? ✅
Did I build relationships that will last beyond this project? ✅
Am I more confident in my ability to figure hard things out? ✅
Did I become someone I'm proud of? ✅
Would I do it again, knowing the outcome? ✅

By these metrics, Tunology was wildly successful.

The younger version of me couldn't have seen that. She was too focused on external validation—winning, launching, impressing people.

The current version of me knows: The only validation that matters is knowing you did your best and grew from it.

What I'd Tell Someone Starting Their Own Journey Today

If you're reading this and thinking about starting something—a company, a project, a creative endeavor, anything—here's what I wish someone had told me:

1. You're Going to "Fail." Do It Anyway.

Most things you try won't work out the way you plan. That's not a bug—it's a feature.

The failures teach you more than the successes ever could.

2. Define Success By What You Control

You can't control whether investors fund you, customers buy from you, or competitions pick you.

You CAN control:

How hard you work
How much you learn
How you treat your team
How you respond to setbacks
Whether you give up or keep going

Measure yourself by what you control.

3. Start Before You're Ready

I wasn't qualified to be a CFO. I had no idea how to build financial models. I'd never done product management.

I did it anyway. And I figured it out.

If you wait until you're "ready," you'll never start. Start scared. Learn as you go.

4. Find People Who Believe in You

Advisors like Marcela, Tadeo, Laura, and Nikhil didn't have to help us. They chose to because they believed in us.

Co-founders like Shreya, Deeya, Riya, and Bhavna didn't have to stick with me through the grind. They chose to.

Surround yourself with people who see your potential even when you don't.

5. The Journey is the Destination

I know this sounds like a cheesy motivational poster. But it's true.

If I'd only cared about launching Tunology, these six months would feel wasted.

But because I cared about learning, growing, and becoming better? These were the most valuable six months of my life.

6. "Failure" is Just a Story You're Still Writing

Tunology didn't launch. But the story isn't over.

Maybe in college I'll have the skills and resources to restart it. Maybe I'll apply these lessons to a different company. Maybe I'll use these skills in a career that hasn't been invented yet.

The ending hasn't been written. This isn't failure—it's Chapter 1.

7. You Don't Need Permission

I didn't need permission to try building Tunology. I didn't need to be "qualified." I didn't need to wait for someone to tell me I was ready.

I just needed to start.

And so do you.

Whatever idea is sitting in the back of your mind, whatever dream you're too scared to pursue, whatever seems "too big" for where you are right now:

You don't need permission. You just need to begin.

The Unexpected Gifts of "Failure"

Here are things I gained from Tunology not launching that I never expected:

Gift #1: Humility

Before Tunology, I thought I was pretty smart. Good grades, leadership positions, college-bound.

Tunology humbled me. It showed me how much I didn't know. How hard real-world problems are. How execution is infinitely harder than ideas.

That humility made me better.

Gift #2: Empathy for Founders

I used to judge startups that failed. "They must not have worked hard enough. They must not have had a good idea."

Now I know: Most founders work incredibly hard and still don't make it.

The odds are brutal. The challenges are real. The outcomes are often outside your control.

I'll never judge a founder who tried and "failed" again. Because I know what that takes.

Gift #3: Clarity About What I Want

I learned I love finance and strategy. I love building models and solving problems with numbers.

I also learned I don't love coding. I don't love design. I don't love operations.

Tunology helped me figure out what I want to do with my life—not by succeeding, but by letting me try different roles and discover what fit.

Gift #4: A Story That Opens Doors

Colleges didn't care that Tunology didn't launch.

They cared that I tried. That I learned. That I took initiative.

The "failure" became one of my biggest assets in applications.

Because it proved: I'm someone who takes risks, learns from experiences, and keeps going even when things don't work out.

That's the kind of person colleges and companies want.

Gift #5: Proof That I Can Do Hard Things

This is the biggest gift.

I now know, with absolute certainty, that I can tackle hard problems I have no idea how to solve.

Financial modeling? I figured it out. Product management? I figured it out. Customer research? I figured it out.

If I can do that once, I can do it again.

That confidence—that self-knowledge—is worth more than any app launch could ever be.

The Real Success Metric: Would I Do It Again?

Here's the ultimate test of whether something was worth it:

Knowing what I know now—that we wouldn't launch, wouldn't win, wouldn't get funded—would I still do it?

Yes. Absolutely. Without hesitation. A thousand times yes.

Because these six months changed my life in ways I'm still discovering.

They changed:

How I think about problems
How I approach challenges
How I work with teams
How I handle failure
How I define success
Who I am

That's worth infinitely more than any app launch.

What's Next: The Story Isn't Over

So what happens to Tunology now?

Honestly? I don't know.

Maybe it stays a pitch deck and a learning experience.

Maybe in college, with more resources and skills, we revive it.

Maybe someone else reads this blog and builds the mental wellness app that Gen Z needs.

Maybe the future is something I haven't imagined yet.

But here's what I do know:

The skills I gained are real. The relationships I built are real. The confidence I developed is real. The person I became is real.

Those don't go away just because the app didn't launch.

And those are the things that will help me succeed in whatever comes next—whether that's entrepreneurship, corporate finance, nonprofit work, or something I haven't discovered yet.

Tunology taught me I don't need perfect outcomes to win. I just need to keep learning, keep growing, and keep trying.

To Everyone Who's "Failed" at Something: You're Winning

If you're reading this and you've tried something that didn't work out the way you hoped:

You didn't fail. You're just in the middle of your story.

The app you didn't launch taught you how to build. The competition you didn't win taught you how to compete. The funding you didn't raise taught you how to pitch. The product that didn't succeed taught you what users actually need.

None of that learning was wasted.

You're not a failure. You're a founder who tried.

And that puts you ahead of the 99% of people who never started at all.

The Final Lesson: Success Isn't a Destination—It's Who You Become Along the Way

Six months ago, I thought success meant:

Launching an app that helped millions
Raising hundreds of thousands of dollars
Winning competitions
Building the next big thing

Today, I know success means:

Becoming someone capable of solving hard problems
Learning skills that compound over a lifetime
Building relationships that open doors
Gaining confidence that you can figure anything out
Trying things even when you might fail

By that definition, Tunology was wildly, undeniably, triumphantly successful.

We didn't launch the app. We didn't win the competition.

But we built ourselves into people who could.

And in the end, that's the only success that matters.

The Ending That's Actually a Beginning

So here I am, at the end of this three-part series, looking back on six months that changed my life.

Tunology didn't become the company we dreamed of.

But it became something better: A foundation for whoever I'll become next.

The spreadsheet skills I learned? I'll use them in every job I ever have.

The product thinking I developed? It applies to any problem I'll ever solve.

The resilience I built? It'll carry me through every future challenge.

Tunology didn't fail. It succeeded in ways I never expected.

And to anyone who's scared to start something because it might not work out:

Start anyway.

Because whether you "succeed" or "fail," you'll end up somewhere better than where you began.

You'll end up with skills, relationships, confidence, and stories.

You'll end up knowing what you're capable of.

And that's worth more than any app launch, any competition win, any external validation.

That's the real success.

Thank You

To Shreya, Deeya, Riya, and Bhavna—my co-founders who became my friends. Thank you for believing in this crazy idea and in each other.

To Marcela, Tadeo, Laura, and Nikhil—our advisors who saw potential in four high schoolers with a pitch deck. Thank you for your time, wisdom, and patience.

To the TYE program—thank you for creating a space where teenagers can try, fail, and learn without judgment.

To my parents—thank you for letting me do this even though you knew I'd probably "fail." You were right about the learning being the point. (But I'm still not admitting that out loud.)

To everyone who read this three-part series—thank you for caring about the story of something that didn't launch.

And to my future self who'll read this someday—remember: You were brave enough to try. That's the only thing that matters.

One Last Thing: Your Turn

If you're reading this and thinking "I have an idea but I'm too scared to try":

This is your sign. Start.

You don't need to know how it'll end. You don't need to be qualified. You don't need permission.

You just need to take the first step.

And maybe—just maybe—six months from now, you'll write your own blog post about how the thing you built "failed" and why it was the best thing that ever happened to you.

Because that's what entrepreneurship is: Trying things that might not work, learning everything you can, and becoming better in the process.

That's what I did.

And I wouldn't change a thing.

The question was never "Did Tunology succeed?"

The question was always "Did I?"

And the answer? Absolutely.

Hansika Tera is a high school senior and former CFO/CPO of Tunology. She didn't launch the app, didn't win the competition, and didn't raise funding. She gained financial modeling skills, product thinking, customer research experience, advisory relationships, co-founder bonds, college admission stories, career clarity, unshakeable confidence, and the knowledge that she can do hard things. On balance, she thinks she got the better deal.

This concludes the three-part series on building Tunology. Thank you for reading the story of something that didn't launch. May it inspire you to build something that might not either—and discover that's exactly the point.

What are you too scared to start? Tell me in the comments. I'll be the first person to tell you: Do it anyway.

Have you "failed" at something and later realized it was actually success? Share your story. We need more honest conversations about what success actually means.

Want to connect with me as I continue this journey? [Insert social media links]

P.S. - If you're from a college admissions office reading this: Yes, I really did learn all this. Yes, I really can build financial models. Yes, I really do understand product strategy. And yes, I really did discover that "failure" is just an incomplete story. I'm excited to continue writing that story at your institution.

P.P.S. - If you're an investor reading this: Tunology might not be dead. Just paused. If you believe in music therapy for mental wellness and want to back four founders who've already learned from their first attempt... let's talk.

P.P.P.S. - If you're Shreya, Deeya, Riya, or Bhavna reading this: We did something amazing. It didn't end the way we planned. But it changed us. And that's better than any app launch could have been. Thank you for being on this journey with me. Let's build something else someday.

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