I know you’re worried.
I see it in your comments. I hear it in the messages you send. I feel it in the pauses, in the breath before you speak. And I feel it too — deeply. Because how could we not? The world feels tense. The stakes feel high. And the pace of it all? Exhausting.
But tonight, I want to pause. This weekend, I will be covering the Senate budget bill. But right now, the news has calmed down. And in this quiet, I want to say what so often gets lost in the chaos: It’s going to be okay.
We are going to get through this.
And if you're reading this — if you value having a space that speaks plainly, that cuts through the noise, that refuses to look away — I hope you'll consider becoming a subscriber. This work doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It happens because people like you show up, engage, and support it. That support doesn’t just keep this newsletter alive — it fuels everything we’re building here together.
I will keep fighting every single day — for truth, for accountability, for people who deserve better than what they’re getting from those in power.
This isn’t about me. It’s not about my story or even my need for support — although yes, that support makes this work possible, and if you’re moved to, you can click the button below. But tonight is about us. About what we’ve built. And what we’re still building.
Because while it may feel like we’re drowning in uncertainty, something else is happening too. Quietly. Relentlessly. Right here.
We’re building a community that refuses to be gaslit. We’re creating space for honest conversation, unflinching coverage, and collective resistance. That matters.
I want to be clear about the landscape we’re navigating.
What is real — what is here — are the crises at home. Efforts to gut Medicaid and slash SNAP are moving forward. Mass deportation raids continue, breaking apart families in the dead of night. Institutions we were told to trust are folding under the weight of fear and influence. Law firms are caving to pressure. Media outlets are pulling back when they should be leaning in. And Congress? Stalled in a haze of dysfunction.
So yes — it’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. It’s okay to admit you’re scared.
But please don’t mistake exhaustion for defeat. We are not powerless. We are not done.
A couple of weeks ago, on June 14 — Flag Day and Donald Trump’s birthday — more than five million Americans turned out in one of the largest coordinated protests in modern history. No Kings Day wasn’t about a party or a single issue. It was about saying clearly and collectively: this democracy belongs to the people. And we will not be ruled.
I saw families marching together. Generations side by side. I saw signs that made me laugh, cry, and pause. And yes, I saw signs with my own face on them — something I still don’t know how to fully process.
But even in that powerful moment, there was heartbreak. A state lawmaker in Minnesota was assassinated shortly after. It was politically motivated. That’s the country we’re living in. And we have to say that out loud.
Still — the people showed up. Because they haven’t given up. And neither have I.
I’ve been hearing from you. Some of you noticed that I look tired in recent videos. That my voice feels heavier. That I seem drained. You’re right. I am tired.
The past few weeks have been some of the most intense of my life. Early mornings, late nights, constant coverage, nonstop engagement. Every day has been a sprint. But here’s the thing: I’m still energized. Still motivated. And here’s why.
Because of you.
Because this platform — this movement — is working. In the past week alone, our videos reached over 180 million views on TikTok. On Substack, we’ve passed 40 million views in the past month. This platform remains one of the most engaged-with news outlet on the planet, behind only Fox News and the Daily Mail. That’s not just a statistic. That’s a signal. We are being heard.
And remember — this is mostly a two-person operation. Just me, and one part-time employee. No corporate funding. No newsroom empire. Just you, me, and the work.
I don’t share these numbers to brag. I share them so you know why I keep going — even when I’m tired, even when I haven’t had a day off in far too long. This matters. You’ve told me it does. You’ve told me this is the first time you’ve felt like journalism was speaking to you, not at you. And that keeps me going.
This platform runs on trust. It runs on fire. It runs on purpose. I’ve spent my life chasing that purpose. I started college at 14. Law school at 18. I’ve always believed in putting in the work. And I will keep doing that — day in, day out — because of what we’re building together.
There are sacrifices. I miss time with friends and family. I work weekends. I stay online when most people are unplugging. But every sacrifice feels worth it, because the impact is real. You are the proof.
I’ve gotten to interview people I admire — from Governor Gavin Newsom to Senator Cory Booker. I’ve built relationships with leaders and whistleblowers and everyday Americans who trust me to tell their stories. And I will not take that trust for granted.
I also know that burnout is real. I talk to other journalists, other creators, who’ve had to walk away. I understand that. But for me, exhaustion is a sign to rest, not to quit. My passion for this work hasn’t dimmed. It’s burning brighter than ever.
So yes, I’m tired. But no, I’m not going anywhere.
Maybe I’ll get a little more sleep tonight. Maybe I won’t. But I promise you this: I’m okay. I’m focused. And I’m still here. Every single day.
If this work has helped you, informed you, grounded you — I hope you’ll consider becoming a paid subscriber. Not because I need validation. But because your support is what makes this work sustainable. It gives us the space to stay independent, the freedom to stay fearless, and the reach to grow even bigger.
Thank you for being part of this. For showing up. For staying loud.
The best is still ahead. And tonight, as the world slows for a second — just know: you are not alone. We are only just getting started.
Take care of yourself tonight. Rest.
Tomorrow, we fight.
With gratitude and resolve,
Aaron
Share this post