The archive of codes that nobody will ever generate

Dear Delyara, I am a software engineer, and for the last eighteen months, I have been secretly building a beautiful, minimalist digital sanctuary for an independent project I dreamed of launching. I wrote thousands of lines of pristine code, designed stunning interfaces, and envisioned a space where people could leave their thoughts without judgment. But yesterday, the parent company I work for announced an intellectual property sweep of all personal employee servers. To protect myself from legal ruin, I had to press the delete key on my own creation. Eighteen months of my soul, my late-night passion, and my identity vanished into a command line in three seconds. Today I have to go back to writing mundane database scripts for a faceless corporation, knowing my truest masterpiece exists only as a shadow in my mind.