For those who build

Play this as you read through. Slowly. Trust me.

I don’t know how to explain

what it feels like to be the only one who sees it.

to hold something in your head so clearly

you can almost touch it

but when you try to show people

they just blink

and nod

and scroll.

they don’t see it.

not the way i do.

not the way i lie in bed at 3:17am thinking

what if I'm right? what if this thing could actually change something?

not the way i obsess over button colors,

or rewrite the tagline twelve times

because it has to feel like fire in your chest when you read it.

i talk to myself a lot these days.

to the ceiling. to the code.

to the invisible users i swear are out there.

sometimes i whisper,

“please just work. please just load. please just matter.”

sometimes i yell.

at the lag.

at the doubt.

at the silence that follows every launch.

no claps. no feedback.

just me refreshing the page

like maybe this time someone saw it.

someone cared.

they don’t teach you this part.

the part where faith feels like madness.

where belief feels like being lost in a forest

with a map only you can read

and everyone else is just waiting at the parking lot,

saying, “why are you even in there?”

but i’m in here because something is pulling me.

because i know what it could be.

because i’d rather fail building the thing that keeps me up at night

than succeed doing something that doesn’t make me feel alive.

and yeah, maybe i’m young

and maybe i have no idea what i’m doing

but i know what it feels like

to chase something real

when the world keeps handing you filters

and fake dreams

and pre-approved paths.

i didn’t ask for this weight.

i just… saw something.

and now it won’t let go.

so i’ll be the first.

the first to believe.

the first to build in the dark.

and maybe—

just maybe—

the first to prove

i wasn’t wrong to try.