The first website I ever built
I built my first website in a cramped dorm room with a second‑hand laptop and a head full of questions. It began as a single page where I could publish the small projects and essays I kept writing—nothing fancy, just a place that felt like mine on the internet.
I remember learning HTML by trial and error: opening the file in a browser, changing a tag, refreshing, and celebrating when the change showed up. The thrill of seeing text, colors, and images come together on that blank page made every late night worth it.
That first site taught me the simple power of structure. I learned to separate content from presentation, create meaningful headings, and make links that actually worked. It was where I first practiced patience—clearing cache, fixing broken paths, and wrestling with inconsistent browser behavior.
Publishing that file felt like sending a message in a bottle. I uploaded it via FTP to a tiny shared host, typed the URL into the address bar, and watched strangers load something I had built. The mix of pride and terror was intoxicating.
Over time, the website grew. I added a blog, organized posts, and learned CSS to make things cleaner. Later, JavaScript made it interactive. Each new skill felt like unlocking another bit of possibility.
More than technical skills, that first site taught me how to ship—how to finish something imperfect and iterate. It taught me that a small corner of the web can become a living archive of who you were and what you wanted to try.
Years later I still return to that simple page when I need a reminder: the web rewards curiosity, fixes are part of the process, and the first thing you build is never wasted—it’s the foundation for everything that comes next.