This Should Already Exist

—Crown & Error, Post III

I’m building something big—something that should already exist.
And I think that’s what scares me the most—that I’m building something, and I don’t think it’s been done before.

But maybe it has. Maybe it’s out there, buried deep.
I haven’t had time to stop and check.
Haven’t had time to properly set my brain down and comb through the evidence, the archives, the echoes.

Because my brain?
It doesn’t stop.
It spirals and loops and accelerates.
When I try to slow it down, it speeds up.

So I’m learning to work with it—and in doing so, I’m realising what I’m building.

It’s big.

And I don’t think it’s grandiose to say this:
It’s going to change the world.
Not a corner of it.
Not one industry or niche community.
The world.

A few days ago, I wouldn’t have said that out loud.
I would’ve softened it—said I’m working in a few key areas, that what I’m making will be helpful, even impactful.
But now, I see it.
The sun through the trees. The full shape of the scaffolding.
And it terrifies me.

Because my brain doesn’t work small. Not when it’s been made small in the past, over and over again.
Now, my brain zooms into one sharp fracture—then it maps how that crack runs through the whole structure.

So, I’m not just starting a business.
I’m building a constellation.
Interconnected, interdependent, intentional.

Every piece of it touches real life.
Grief. Ritual. Creation. Voice.

And I’m building it fast.
Not carelessly—but because I genuinely don’t know how not to.

The only thing that doesn’t move fast is funding.
Not because I haven’t looked.
But sitting still long enough to write an application feels like standing in wet cement as the storm rolls in.
And the storm is always rolling in.

Still, I’m looking. I’m learning.
And in every moment of building, there’s a flicker—a pulse of rage and ache and awe:

This should already exist.
It should have been here for me.
And it wasn’t.

So I’m building it. For others.
For the ones who feel like I did.
For the version of me who never had a blueprint.
And, for the ones still crawling through the wreckage, looking for a way out.

Maybe one day I’ll find others who were building in parallel.
Maybe our work overlaps.

I hope it does.

Because I’m not building this to be first.
I’m building it because I couldn’t not.

And maybe that’s the point.
To build what should have always been there.