Flipper47. I was flooded with reasons not to do it—imposter syndrome, lack of structure, no obvious revenue path. But I muted the doubt, locked in for 30 days, and shipped it. That chaos made something real.

I was 11 when I first realized I could bend the world. We’d just moved to a new state, broke and starting over. Electricity was unreliable, so I built a lighting system from scrap LED bulbs and power bank batteries, charged by a solar panel I found on the street.

It wasn’t pretty—but it worked. That moment flipped a switch in me: building gives you control, even when life doesn’t.

When I shipped Flipper47 in a month. It’s a PWA that helps people find the resale value of everyday items in under a minute.

Looking back, I built it with no CS degree, no team, and a history that includes working in a water factory, managing a hotel solo at 16, and learning electrical maintenance in a plastic plant. The surprise wasn’t the product. It was realizing that I’ve become someone who finishes.

I rarely feel alone *while* building. The act itself absorbs me. But isolation creeps in when I try to share my ideas with people who don’t speak the same language. I once pitched a blockchain-based degree verification platform to a coworker at a plastic factory—he thought I was having a stroke.

AI has helped fill the gap, but no model can fully replace human context and shared ambition. That’s why I crave community: not to be less alone, but to be more understood.

In 2021, I went all-in on crypto and upgraded our living situation. Then the market crashed. No safety net. Almost homeless—again. That was a heavy moment. Not because I lost money, but because I felt like I’d failed my family.

But I kept building. Not out of optimism—out of necessity. You either sink or you swim. I chose to swim.

Night work only. No distractions. Just me, silence, and the glow of the screen.

Also, gratitude. It keeps me grounded. I’ve been at rock bottom. I’m not there anymore.

A fictional biotech thriller about weaponized fungi spores that temporarily induce insulin resistance to force governments to subsidize insulin.

But seriously: I’ve been working on a story-world where students undergo a moral ritual with their pets that determines their societal role for life. A dystopia built on emotional profiling. The story blends neuroscience, ethics, and systems design. I want to build out the whole mythos—and maybe even turn it into a simulation.

A product to help people with diabetes understand how food affects their glucose in real time. Take a photo of your meal, log your post-meal glucose, and let an AI learn your personal response pattern.

Most tracking apps are generic. This one would adapt to you—learning over time, becoming more useful the more you use it. It matters to me because I’ve watched someone suffer from this disease. It's not just painful—it’s expensive, slow, and dehumanizing. If I can reduce even 1% of that friction, it’s worth everything.

My mom. She didn’t have a manual. She just figured it out. And when I win, it means everything she risked was worth it.

Also: the future version of me I’m chasing. Calm, focused, dangerous in a good way.

1. My mom – Her intuition and grit are unmatched. 2. Myself – Not out of arrogance, but because I always find a way. 3. The internet – Strangers on YouTube and Twitter raised me. 4. My little brothers – They're sharp in ways that don’t fit school. 5. The me I haven’t met yet.

Becoming is when you can look back and go, “Damn, I really did that.” It’s not about a title. It’s about alignment—becoming the version of you that serves others, inspires action, and bends reality.

Then I keep building. Simple. Rome wasn’t built in a month. Neither is legacy. Whether I’m in a hacker house or a tiny apartment with spotty Wi-Fi, I’ll be doing the same thing: solving problems with code and fire.