This past week, I’ve been at a writing camp near Amsterdam, in Zandvoort. I won’t lie—people canceled on me, and it didn’t go as planned. But it gave me time to be alone with my thoughts, which, in hindsight, was exactly what I needed. I spent time with family I hadn’t known too well, including my grandmother’s sister. We had dinner, caught up, and shared stories—family stuff that I don’t often get to experience. I also did an interview for the radio, which will air tomorrow. There’s been so much happening, and as my time here wraps up, I feel like I need to be honest. Sometimes, it feels like people don’t really care about what I do. You see them in person, and they’ll say, “Oh, you’re doing so well,” but online, it’s crickets. And it gets to me sometimes. It’s made me hesitate to post, to share. But I’ve realized something: even if I don’t always get the reactions I expect, I’m still here. I’m still creating. This camp has been about more than just the music. I’ve had so much on my...