« What if I build my own tool… ?» - ( I will not promote )

A few months ago, I had a brilliant idea. “What if I built a tool that actually solved my content chaos instead of adding to it?” Simple, right? Yeah, I thought so too. See, I manage content across multiple sites, and every so-called “AI-powered content tool” I tried was either a glorified Google scraper in disguise or a productivity black hole that required more babysitting than an actual intern. I didn’t want an AI that thinks for me—I wanted something that would let me be the damn boss of my own content. So I did the rational thing: I spiraled into an existential crisis, ignored all logic, and built my own. Phase 1: The “This Will Be Easy” Delusion I thought, “I’ll just use RSS feeds, throw in some AI magic, and boom—problem solved!” Yeah, no. That’s how I ended up with a bloated mess of irrelevant headlines and AI-generated summaries that made my soul physically ache. Turns out, if you let AI research for you with zero oversight, you get the journalistic equivalent of a wet paper towel. At this point, any sane person would have cut their losses. Instead, I doubled down. Phase 2: Full-Blown Startup Chaos You ever spend too much time on something and reach a point where quitting would hurt more than finishing? That’s where I landed. I scrapped everything, rebuilt the logic, and said, “Fine, if no tool can do exactly what I need, I’ll Frankenstein one together myself.” Suddenly, I was knee-deep in API hell, UX dilemmas, and wondering why everything in tech is unnecessarily complicated. No dev team, no funding, no sanity—just me, a ton of coffee, and the burning desire to make something that didn’t suck. I learned some harsh truths along the way: • “Less is more” is a lie when you’re a control freak. Every feature I added felt like “the one thing that will make it perfect.” Spoiler: It wasn’t. • No one tells you how lonely solo development is. No co-founders to validate your ideas, no team to complain to, just you and the growing sense that you might be losing it. • The best version of your product will always exist in your head, not in production. My UI is functional, my pricing page is wrong, and half my buttons don’t even work. But hey, it does what I needed it to do. Phase 3: The “Wait, This Might Actually Be Something” Moment Somewhere in the middle of this self-inflicted chaos, I realized something. I wasn’t just building a better content tool—I was accidentally building something bigger. Something that could actually help other people stuck in the same content hell I was in. And yet, I kept thinking… “What the hell am I supposed to do now?” Should I try to scale it? Should I find a co-founder who gets the vision? Should I look for investors who won’t make me want to jump out a window? Or do I just keep hacking away at it in the dark, pretending this isn’t turning into a real company?