- I needed a project. Something to keep my hands from shaking.

  - I don’t have the skills. But I’ve got duct tape, rope, and spite.

  - I don't know what lesson you'd find in this tip. Maybe something about having a hobby.

  ---

  I found a backyard with an old tree. Big one. Sturdy. The kind you don’t see much outside of kids’ picture books.

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  There were boards in the shed. Rusty nails in the garage. A hammer that’s more handle than head. But I made it work. I had to.

  There’s something about building something that makes you feel less broken. Like if you can just stack enough planks, maybe you can patch up the hollow space in your chest too.

  First day, I fell twice.

  Second day, I bled a little.

  Third day, I laughed. I hadn’t realized how quiet it had gotten in my head until I heard it echo back.

  Now?

  It’s not much. A platform, a tarp roof, some chicken wire for a makeshift ladder. But it’s mine.

  Zombies can’t climb. At least, not yet.

  I called it “The Nest.” Like a place to hide, not from the world—but from the feelings I haven’t figured out how to fix.

  And hey—if it collapses?

  That’s tomorrow’s problem.