Dear 25-Year-Old Me, I see you. It’s another Tuesday night, and you’re sitting in that gray cubicle under buzzing fluorescent lights. The hum from the AC blends with the soft clack of your keyboard, but your mind isn’t on the spreadsheet in front of you. You keep glancing at the clock in the corner of your screen. It’s 8:47 PM. You still have two hours left on your shift, but your thoughts are already in the studio. The beat you’ve been working on has been looping in your head all day, and you can’t wait to lay down that verse....

My alarm goes off at 1AM.The house is silent, the world still deep in sleep. By the time most people are turning over in bed, I’m already on the highway. Diesel hum beneath me, highway lights streaking past, black coffee in the cupholder to keep my eyes sharp. The first run eats the early morning. By the time I’ve unloaded that first load of cement powder, half my day is already gone. Sweat soaks through my shirt, dust clings to my boots, and I know there’s still another run waiting for me. That’s my rhythm: two hauls, twelve hours, sun...

For years, I treated YouTube like it was the promised land. I uploaded consistently, stayed up late editing after grueling 12-hour shifts, and poured everything into my craft. I told myself if I just kept going—if I stayed disciplined long enough—the algorithm would notice me. But it didn’t. I put out my best work: short films with powerful stories, cyphers that carried the raw energy of hip-hop, music videos that felt industry-ready. And still… 10 views. 20 views. A few pity comments from friends trying to keep me encouraged. It wasn’t just about numbers—it was about feeling invisible. Watching something...