Around Christmas one year, something incredible happened—something that still feels surreal when I think about it. It started innocently enough: Lee, my boss, sent out an email asking everyone to share their personal highlight of the year. For most people, this was probably a routine task, but not for me. Without hesitation, I wrote, "Seeing spaceships for real." It was a bold move, sure, but it felt like the right thing to say. I hit send, feeling strangely liberated.

In 2015, the fate of Holodex took a dramatic turn. The site went down, and I can only assume Derek thought I was rolling in cash, refusing to share the wealth. If that were the case, surely the shutdown would have sent a clear message: there was no fortune to be had, just a dream struggling to stay afloat.

Sharing my confessional story felt like exposing my soul to the world—a risky but necessary endeavour. I handed copies to colleagues, some of whom I trusted, others I simply wanted to see the person behind the pages. Most responded warmly, offering kind words or thoughtful critiques. But there was one who stood out, not for what he said, but for what he didn’t.