I Couldn’t Find a Place I Fit In… So I Made My Own

There’s a special kind of loneliness that comes from trying to fit into rooms that weren’t built for you. You know the ones—where everyone’s speaking a language you almost understand, wearing masks you didn’t get the memo to bring, and performing a script that makes you wonder if you missed rehearsal.

I tried those rooms. I tried fitting in. It was exhausting.

So I did what most stubborn creatives do when the world keeps handing them ill-fitting uniforms and pre-approved scripts.

I burned the damn blueprint.

And I built something of my own.

It didn’t start as a grand vision. More like a small, messy tavern at the edge of the multiverse—a place where the drinks are strong, the conversation is unfiltered, and the regulars are delightfully strange. Over time, that tavern became a podcast, a book series, a livestream, a digital hangout. It grew not because it was polished, but because it was honest.

I didn’t need a million fans. I needed a handful of good ones. People who:

laugh at the same dark jokes,

stay curious about weird stories,

know the value of a well-timed toast,

and can handle a cat burglar with attitude or a villain with a conscience.

So I invited them. One by one.

Not everyone stays, and not everyone gets it—but those who do? They belong, because they choose to.

This isn't a brand. It's a bonfire. You’re welcome to pull up a seat, throw in a story, and warm your hands.

And if you’re still out there searching for your place in someone else’s world?

You might just need to build your own.

I'll save you a chair.

—Travis I. Sivart