January 14: Perfect Time to Die

Breaking Bad S3E10:    • Breaking Bad Season 3 Episode 10 - Fly - P...  

Jake Fellman records this entry feeling deeply exhausted, despite having slept eight to nine hours the night before. The day is physically uncomfortable—his right eye twitches and hurts throughout the workday—and mentally draining. He’s still forced to work from his laptop while his main computer remains in the shop, and this is the first day he’s had to rely heavily on After Effects and Photoshop on the laptop. The slowdown is severe: long delays between actions, constant waiting, and a general sense that progress is crawling.

Despite the friction, Jake does make progress, finishing music for the video. He experiments by changing his usual approach, adding lo-fi vocals and vocoder effects, even inserting lyrics for the first time. While he enjoys the process and finds it playful, he’s unsure whether the result is actually stronger—or just different. With the collection videos already struggling, he reasons that changing things up might be worthwhile, even if he has no confidence that this particular video will perform well.

A tense conversation with his dad weighs heavily on him. His dad again brings up spreadsheets, budgeting, and how soon Jake should be looking for a job. Jake admits he snapped back, explaining that he needs belief right now more than constant financial reality checks. The conversations feel painfully similar to 2020, when his parents doubted YouTube as a viable path before it became a five-year career. He hopes—almost desperately—that in six months he’ll be able to say “I told you so,” but he no longer feels certain.

Emotionally, Jake reflects on how much his confidence has shifted. In December, he felt energized and sure he could turn things around. Two weeks into the year, that certainty has eroded. He still believes he’s giving everything he has, but recognizes that effort alone doesn’t guarantee success. If there’s no room for him on YouTube anymore, then there may simply be no room—and that thought terrifies him.

He considers extreme alternatives, like flooding the platform with content, but rejects them as bad long-term brand decisions. At the same time, he’s coming to terms with the idea that this may be his last January living where he is—a realization that deeply saddens him. He doesn’t want to leave, change careers, get a job, or quit YouTube. He doesn’t want any of it.

Jake shares a metaphor his dad mentioned about how hard it was for him to leave his college dorm—how sometimes life forces transitions before you’re ready. That leads him to a darker reflection, comparing himself to a character who feels like he already peaked and is now living beyond the “right” ending. He’s careful to clarify that he’s not suicidal, but expresses a profound sense of grief: he feels like he once had everything he wanted, and now it’s gone, with nothing else he desires except for this to work.

He ends the entry questioning why he’s fighting so hard—especially when he feels isolated, hasn’t built a social life, and rarely leaves the house. The monologue trails off not in anger, but in resignation and sadness, as he acknowledges how lost and emotionally worn down he feels, promising to check in again tomorrow.

0:00 - Production Updates
2:21 - Blind Faith
3:35 - End of the Road
5:20 - Walter White
6:24 - Nothing Else to Want