Lately, I’ve been noticing a shift in what I want to give my energy to. I want to create more out of pure desire—not the kind of creativity that’s optimized or monetized, but the kind that exists simply because it ignites something inside me. I’m gravitating toward creative people more than ever. There’s electricity in being near them, in watching how their minds move, how their hands turn ideas into something tangible. I’ve always been drawn to creatives. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.
When it comes to money, I’m grounded in reality. I have my Siblings, who understands the world as I do. I know the routes, the frameworks, the steps I could take. Earning more is possible—and I don’t say that casually. I’m aware that even having access to those paths is a privilege.
Creativity, though, feels like a different universe altogether. Money follows logic; it’s trackable, structured, predictable. Creativity is none of those things. It’s chaotic, nonlinear, and sometimes hidden beneath layers of neglect or fear. I’m certain there are skills, interests, and parts of myself I haven’t touched in years—or maybe haven’t met yet. That’s what I’m searching for now.
So I’ve been placing myself where creativity breathes. Sitting with people who make things not out of obligation, but compulsion. Letting that energy surround me, trusting that proximity alone might stir something dormant within me.
Because money will always matter. But creativity feels like something deeper—like nourishment. Like survival.
Lemon Peel is where the small thoughts go. The ones too intimate for a long-form piece and too honest to stay quiet. Short, unfiltered, occasionally rough around the edges—like a peel, they bring sharpness and flavor to everything else.
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