Once I had safely reached home after abruptly leaving Stanford, I noticed I was creating more than usual. I use ‘creating’ in the broadest sense of the world—I extensively cleaned my room, baked brownies for my family, drew and journaled a little, and took pictures of my sister, all the while crossing these activities off a detailed to-do list. Making and doing felt purposeful in a time where I felt I had so little direction. My friends and I would discuss over Zoom about what we could possibly do with all of this free time, and I told them no matter what, I wanted to see what they did with their day; a funny poem or pictures of what they cooked. I realized then that everyone in this weird state of being has something that they can share with others, and in sharing that piece of themselves, they are more connected to their peers than they were before. Many of my friends talked about feeling aimless, lonely, and isolated, and I felt twinges of the same feelings. I felt helpless in what was going on around me—other than following social distancing guidelines, donating to worthy causes, and supporting local business, there was and is nothing I could do to help people who still have to go to work, who are toiling in hospitals across the country, and who cannot afford to use this time as a time of rest or rejuvenation. I figured that if I could make even the tiniest dent in the pervasiveness of those feelings, I could help bring more purpose to people’s lives and in turn dedicate myself to creation. I too could give myself some purpose in a time where I felt extremely helpless to the plight of those around me.