Around two years ago, I applied to work as a clown.

Not clown college - although that could've been fun for sure - it was a "clown providing service". After spending some time in the fintech world, I wanted to let off some steam while simultaneously learning how to make those balloon dogs. You know the ones.

I was twenty-four. So young. I had my whole life ahead of me back then.

The day after applying, I got rejected.

It didn't feel good. I didn't NOT stand silently in the shower for a long time after receiving the email that said they would not be moving forward with my application. It felt like the perfect time to be melodramatic.

So I wrote a story. A very very sad story. So that someone else, even if they were fictional, would be sad with me.

Then I posted it online, because that's the sort of thing we do now, isn't it?

Insanity. A few iPad drawings created on my bedroom floor and a short story written on the notes app, quickly - and unexpectedly - gained traction online. Overnight, it inexplicibly garnered more than 500,000 views.

The way people responded took my breath away. Authenticity. Warmth. Kindness.

The next day, I put another story up, and then it just kept going.

A community formed. A community of support - not just for me, but for each other. There are now 270,000 people who read these stories regularly.

I'm so grateful they're here.