It was 6:30 a.m. when I stepped outside after being awake all night.
I had been writing — moving from one idea to another — creating bits and pieces of things that mostly aren’t ready to be published. Some of it had been for a book. Some had been for YouTube videos. Some had been for film projects. And part of it was for a ridiculous parody ad that I’ll use as a minor piece of a video.
Most of what I create isn’t great. Some of it is mediocre. Some of it never sees the light of day. But every now and then, something clicks and I’m able to make something really good. And when that happens, I know it.
As I stepped onto my front steps, the light breeze and gentle warmth outside were perfect. I looked above me to a beautiful moon peeking through partly cloudy skies.
Everything felt right. I was exhausted after working all night. But I felt alive.

Is it abuse to force atypical kids to conform to norms of society?
What if biggest risk to our lives comes from our own unhappiness?
Best years of our lives? For me, teen years were start of feeling like alien
GAME: Can you find names of the last 20 commenters on this site?
For good or bad, we default back to what feels most familiar to us
My political lens makes me think you’re crazy — and vice versa
Money can’t buy happiness, but poverty can make you miserable
Normal days often turn to terror when you live with a narcissist
Obama’s delusion about ‘explaining’ illustrates all-too-common narcissism