Stripped to my bones, this is what I know: I create because I must.

Because something inside me knows there’s a gap in the world that only my particular madness can fill.

I’ve spent too long waiting for permission. Waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect skill level, the perfect clarity. But my mission isn’t about perfection – it’s about necessity. About letting the things inside me breathe.

When do I know I’m done?

I don’t. And that’s the point. Like breathing, each completion is just a pause before the next beginning. I’m learning to trust this rhythm.

My mission, at its core, is this: Create until the thing in front of me feels honest. Until it carries a piece of my truth. Then release it to make space for the next truth waiting to be born. Some will be magnificent. Others will be magnificent failures. I need both. They all move me forward.

So I create. Not because I’ll ever be done, but because I’m alive right now. I create because that’s how I make sense of being human. That’s how I leave my fingerprints on the world.

The only measure that matters is this: Does it feel true? Does it feel necessary? Does it feel like mine?

Everything else is just noise.