Once you taste making something from nothing

There’s a moment that changes everything. It’s the moment you realize you can make something from nothing. Not buy it, not find it, not inherit it but actually create it, with your own hands, your own mind, your own effort.

For me, it was writing my first JS app. A simple script that did something useful. Nothing impressive, nothing groundbreaking. But it was mine. I had made it exist where it hadn’t existed before.

That moment rewired something in my brain. Once you taste that feeling, you can’t go back.

Creating becomes a habit. Not because you have to, but because you’ve discovered something essential: the act of making things changes how you see the world.

Before you create, the world is full of finished products. Everything seems complete, polished, beyond your ability to change. But after you create, you start seeing the seams. You notice how things are put together. You see the choices that were made, the problems that were solved, the compromises that were accepted.

This shift in perspective is permanent. Once you see the world as something that can be made, you can’t unsee it.

Creation is addictive because it’s one of the few activities that gives you complete control. In most of life, you’re responding to forces outside yourself. But when you’re creating, you’re the force. You’re the one making decisions, solving problems, bringing something new into existence.

This control is intoxicating and also dangerous. Because once you get used to it, everything else feels passive.

You start craving that feeling of making something. Not for money, not for recognition, not for any external reason. Just for the act itself. Just for the satisfaction of seeing something that didn’t exist before, and knowing you made it exist.

I think this is why creation becomes a private form of worship. Not worship in the religious sense, lool, but in the sense of reverence. You’re honoring something fundamental which is the human capacity to bring new things into the world.

When you create, you’re participating in something ancient and essential. You’re doing what humans have always done i.e taking raw materials, whether they’re words, code, wood, or ideas, and shaping them into something new.

This act connects you to everyone who has ever created anything. It connects you to the first person who made a tool, the first person who told a story, the first person who built something useful.

But here’s the trap, once you taste creation, you start wanting everything you make to be perfect. You start comparing your work to the polished products you see around you. You start feeling like your creations aren’t good enough.

This is a mistake as perfection isn’t the point. Creation is the point. The act of making something, even if it’s flawed, is more valuable than the act of making nothing perfectly.

Every creator I know has a graveyard of unfinished projects, abandoned ideas, half-formed thoughts. Some might see it as failure, but in hindsight, it’s practice. I see it as the necessary work of learning how to make things.

So here’s what I’ve learned, once you taste making something from nothing, you’ll never be satisfied with just consuming. You’ll always want to create. You’ll always want to build. You’ll always want to bring something new into the world.

This isn’t a problem to solve. It’s the natural result of discovering that you have the power to make things exist.

So keep making even when it’s hard. Even when it’s imperfect. Even when no one else sees it. Because the act itself is what matters. The habit of creation is what changes you.