I Wrote 12 Lines of Code Instead of a Poem—And It Set Me Free

I used to think winning in life meant betting on random numbers—until I realized the real jackpot wasn’t in the casino, but in the console.

At 3 AM in my Manhattan apartment, after debugging a failing AI model, I typed three lines of React: const self = useExistential();. No lottery. No multiplier. Just me, the code, and the silence between renders.

My father used to play jazz on Sundays. He said, ‘Son, if you chase the beat too hard, you’ll lose your soul.’ So I chased something quieter: clean syntax over noise. Every line became a stanza. Every error—a pause for breath.

I built an AI writing template not for profit—but for presence. The algorithm doesn’t know your name. But when you stop trying to predict? That’s when you begin to create.

Last week, I released ‘Nightfall Poem v1.0’—a CLI tool that turns failed API calls into haiku. Users called it ‘the first existential frontend.’ One comment read: ‘You didn’t win—you just stayed.’

We’re told to optimize outcomes. But what if meaning isn’t found in the data? What if it’s carved in keystrokes at midnight?

This isn’t about speed or stakes. It’s about showing up—even when no one’s watching.

Try it yourself: Write three lines of code instead of a poem tomorrow night.