About Me

A Child and his Disc

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The year was 1998. I was a child, sitting cross-legged on the chair in front of the family computer, mesmerized by the sounds of a whirring CD-ROM drive. Like other children diagnosed with ADHD, "computering" was off-limits most days, so this moment felt special. The disk I'd inserted featured a safe, simple interface for kids—a bright 90s screen meant to shield me from the cold, gray boxes of Windows 98. It was supposed to keep me away from the system itself. It had quite the opposite effect.

Instead of launching the games I was meant to see, I started rooting around in hidden files and folders. I couldn't have explained what "programming" was, but I realized I could poke at the code, swap out images, and shape that bubbly interface into something new. Something that would let my grandmother use the computer, too. That day, I discovered both design and development, fused them into a single craft—and I was hooked.

A Teen and his Themes

By 2005, I was a teenager, spending entire weekends reshaping every pixel of Windows XP on my grandmother's hand-me-down computer. That same spark from the children's disc now drove me to create full-fledged themes—icons, wallpapers, you name it. I'd hike to the library for internet access and share my work on deviantART, a website for online art and desktop customization. They began featuring my themes on the homepage, calling them "Daily Deviations." At school, I was labeled "disruptive." On the internet, I was celebrated.

In Japan, Windows100%, a magazine for computer enthusiasts, bundled my themes and wallpapers on their cover CD-ROMs. It was a particularly surreal moment: a magazine disc had inspired me to start my work, and now a magazine disc was bringing my work to others.

Around 2008, I needed a personal website. To really gain the motivation to learn how to even do that, I entered May1stReboot, an annual website redesign competition among designers. When I won, I earned unlimited hosting on mediatemple. Suddenly, I could build as many websites as I wanted at no cost. And I could build them for others.

A Nomad and his Laptop

In 2011, I packed my bags and left Holland for the first time. I landed in New York, wide-eyed, for an internship at Livestream, a live streaming platform. Having been holed up in small-town Holland up to this point, New York was a place that finally matched my energy. I made it a rule to say "yes" to everything, leading to the wildest adventures. A year later, I became Lead Designer at The Next Web, and it felt like I'd finally found my footing.

Working in bustling offices suited my creativity—making logos, studying animation, even turning co-workers into animated centaurs—but my ADHD made me incredibly distracting to others. I was either loved or hated, and the happier I was, the more likely it was someone would yell at me. So I tried to hide. In fact, I hid so hard that they never found me in an office again; by going remote in 2013.

Hopping between countries like Russia and Greece, making brands and websites for YC startup from laptop-friendly cafés. A year in New Zealand introduced me to Charlie Coppinger (@TheCoppinger), now an ADHD-fueled coding livestreamer, who became one of my most trusted friends. The next year in Japan, I poured my love for language-learning into KanjiNerd—my first solo app. In 2017, I launched Johto Mono (a pixel font) and Sejong's Cup (a cheeky drinking game) on Product Hunt, a website where people share new products. But I spent too much time making things I thought were beautiful and no time making things that made money, and in less than a year, I ran out of it.

A Man and his Fears

After returning to freelancing, I settled in South Korea, where in 2018 I crossed paths with Pieter Levels (@levelsio), founder of NomadList. He could bootstrap and launch a product in a month, while I spent ages perfecting every tiny detail—often never shipping at all. Pieter chalked that up to "ego," but in truth, I was terrified of being a burden. Here I was, bending over backward not to bother anyone. I'd made my life so small, limiting my time around people, just to avoid giving them a chance to yell at me, when they would see I couldn't sit still.

That self-denial was the real blocker, keeping me from making anything that truly mattered. I'd been designing for everyone but myself—if I couldn't honor my own mental wiring, how could I build something that lasted beyond a fleeting idea? I needed to become unapologetic, to make things for my needs first, and trust that others like me might benefit too. Once I embraced that, I finally had a reason to keep going. So I built Horse, a browser that works with my ADHD instead of fighting it.

A Maker and his Horse

Horse Browser is built with the same web fundamentals I first glimpsed in that children's disc. It's designed to spark curiosity, not stifle it, embracing the way I (and so many others with ADHD) naturally explore ideas. What started as a personal tool became something bigger. Horse resonated deeply with others who share my ADHD experience, becoming an essential tool for over a thousand users who think differently.

When it won me Product Hunt's Maker of the Year in 2024, it didn't feel like a victory—it felt like a giant exhale. All those years working at home and in cafés just to avoid disturbing anyone, all those hours tinkering, that fear of being noticed...they had led me here, to something real, something people found genuinely useful. And I'm only getting started.