BAND-AID. 🩹

Gratefulness, above all spiritual and scientific pursuits, has been the supreme source of peace in my life. Growing up was a bipolar experience, balancing my wonder and lust for life with familial, socioeconomic, and psychopathological roadblocks.

As a teenager, I sank into a deep well of self-pity, decorating it with superficial displays of confidence and success. I became a master of placing band-aids one the lacerations of my soul—until the sheer weight of those makeshift fixes tore open the very wounds they were meant to protect.

In college, I was forced confront the full extent of the damage festering beneath the surface. It was a brutal reckoning, requiring me to clean out the decay that had accumulated over the years of neglect.

I hate the saying, “Better late than never,” because late is still late. Digging through layer after layer of soggy, rotten dressings was inefficient and agonizing. Yet, it led me to the raw truth of my pain.

Finally, I sutured the wound shut—not with pretense, but with whispers of love, kindness, and gratitude for the people and opportunities I have. Since then, I’ve begun to see Harvard not as a consolation prize for my suffering but as a springboard to deeper joy and fulfillment.