I didn't quit my job in a dramatic, "follow your dreams" kind of way. My internship ended, the company couldn't afford to bring me on full-time, and just like that, I was out. No safety net, no offer letter waiting in my inbox, no backup plan. And honestly? I wasn't exactly rushing to find the next 9-to-5 either.

The job market is brutal right now

If you've tried looking for work recently, you already know. The job market in 2025 and 2026 has been one of the toughest in years for graduates and early-career workers. The unemployment rate for recent college graduates climbed to roughly 5.7% by the end of 2025, according to the Federal Reserve Bank of New York. Underemployment hit 42.5%, the highest since 2020. That means nearly half of all recent graduates are working jobs that don't even require a degree. It's not just about fewer openings. The entire hiring landscape has shifted. Employers are in a "low hire, low fire" mode, meaning they aren't laying people off, but they aren't bringing anyone new in either. Job openings have been trending below pre-pandemic levels. And AI is starting to chip away at exactly the kind of entry-level work that graduates depend on to get their foot in the door. Handshake reported an average of 109 applications per internship posting in 2025, nearly double the year before. In tech? That number was 273. BlackRock's CEO even said this year's graduates could face the highest jobless rate in years, in part because AI is making more entry-level roles obsolete. So no, it's not just me. The market is genuinely hard right now, and having a decent portfolio of projects doesn't carry the weight it used to when AI is devaluing the kind of side projects that once made you stand out.

I was already running on empty

I'd been working non-stop through university, juggling part-time jobs during the semester and more work during the breaks. By the time my internship ended, I was exhausted. Not the "I need a weekend off" kind of exhausted, but the deep, cumulative kind that builds up over years of never really stopping. I wanted a break. I needed one. But the job market wasn't exactly cooperating, and I had to make a decision: keep grinding through applications into a void, or redirect that energy toward something I actually believed in.

The myth of the side hustle

The advice you hear everywhere is to build your side hustle while keeping your day job. In theory, it sounds responsible. Keep the income, build on the side, transition when you're ready. In practice? It's nearly impossible. I tried doing this throughout university, and I couldn't make it work. Not because I wasn't motivated, but because the math just doesn't add up. You spend 9 hours at work. Add commute time and it's closer to 8am to 6pm. Then you need to eat, rest, handle life stuff, maybe see family or your partner. By the time you sit down to actually build something, you're running on fumes. The 5-to-9 hustle sounds inspiring in a TikTok caption, but the reality is that after a full day of work, your "rest time" is just that, rest time. If you try to hustle through it, you burn out. And burnout doesn't just slow you down, it makes you worse at everything, including your day job. I'm not saying it's impossible for everyone. Some people make it work. But I spent my entire university life trying, and I couldn't crack the code. Something always had to give, and usually it was my health or the quality of the work.

So I took the risk

I decided that since the market wasn't going to hand me a lifeline, I'd focus on the things I'd already been building. Thankfully, I wasn't starting from zero. I had Base 7, Decosmic, Ryu, my YouTube channel, Update Night, and Supply.tf, all projects I'd been laying the groundwork for over months. Some were further along than others, but they were real. I had a roadmap. I had a rough vision. And I'd been planning how to execute on all of it. The plan for the next stretch is to push content on YouTube, start building a short-form content presence, develop Update Night into a proper platform for tools, expand my distribution channels, and keep building Ryu. It's about solidifying the base and being strategic about it. I've learned a lot from my past failures. I know what went wrong, what I'd do differently, and where I need to focus to actually give myself a real shot.

I know the odds

Let's be honest. The chances of success are low. The statistics on startups and solo ventures are not encouraging, and I'm not naive about that. Most people who try this don't make it. But here's how I see it: I'm not doing nothing. Every piece of content I create, every product I ship, every skill I sharpen, all of it builds my portfolio. Even if the ventures don't pan out the way I hope, I'll be in a better position when I eventually go back to looking for a job. I'll have more to show, more experience, and a clearer sense of what I want to do. The worst case isn't failure. The worst case is standing still.

Why I'm writing this

I don't have all the answers. I don't know exactly how every part of this journey will play out, and that's just life. But I know that waiting around for the perfect opportunity wasn't working, and I'd rather bet on myself than bet on a job market that isn't betting on me. If you're in a similar position, tired, stuck, watching applications disappear into the void, I'm not going to tell you to quit everything and follow your passion. That's reckless advice. But I will say this: if you've already been building, if you have something real to work with, and if the alternative is spinning your wheels, maybe the risk isn't as big as it feels. Sometimes the scariest move is the most strategic one.

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