The Show Goes On

At first, I didn’t think I’d share this.

Not publicly at least.

I kinda figured it’d be some quiet hobby I kept for myself.

Kind of a literary secret.

A private log of journal entries, a small creative outlet.

A place where I could speak freely without explanation.

No specific audience in mind. No clicks. No strategy.

Just words. My words.

I’ve been journaling since age 14. Writing down my thoughts.

Free writing.

Back when I didn’t have the voice for what I was feeling.

Just me, a pen, empty sheets of paper.

With a slight sense that I needed to document my voice to look back on.

This blog, or “canon”, as I like to call it, was supposed to be that way as well.

Unpolished. Untouched. Just for my eyes.

But then something shifted.

The more I kept writing, the more I realized this wasn’t just for me to look back on.

It was about my voice. Owning and using it for good intention.

And it lowkey felt nice to create something that didn’t ask for permission or validation.

It’s not a trend. It’s not performative. There’s no approval.

It was never meant to be content.

It was just proof.

That I’m present.

Paying attention to the noisy world around us.

That I’ve been building something in the quiet hours.

Each blog was a pulse check.

Some light, some heavier, some that were born of 2am overthinking spirals.

But they were all very true to myself.

And maybe that’s why I wanted to share it in the end.

Not to be seen, but to say something that others can align with and see themselves in.

Canon Vol. 1 wasn’t marketing.

Not some resume builder.

Just a time capsule. Reflection. Story. Humor.

It’s something I’ll look back on years from now.

And I’ll remember how it felt to be in this current season.

This rhythm. Figuring it out in real time.

It was never meant to be gain attention.

But to serve as a small pocket guide for those also in their Builder’s Season.

Author’s Note: The McCoy Catalog was written during a summer of quiet resets, unexpected full circle moments, and long awaited clarity. I didn’t plan for this to be the final entry of Volume 1, but it felt right. Maybe that’s the point, that the story keeps unfolding, with or without our permission. Plus, I’m a little burnt out. If the Builder’s Season taught me anything, it’s this: the work continues, the vision sharpens, and even stillness moves us forward.

Thanks for reading. See you in Volume 2.