A name for myself

Some people are born knowing exactly who they are. I wasn't. I was the boy who wanted to build everything. If I saw it, I wanted to understand it. If it was broken, I wanted to fix it. If it didn't exist, I wanted to create it. Cardboard became machines. Empty bottles became inventions. Music became another language. Art became another way to breathe. Computers became another world. Every year I found a new dream, and every dream made me wonder if I was abandoning the last one. People called me talented. I called myself confused. Life didn't make it easier. Rejection hurt. Money was scarce. Opportunities were rare. I learned to code on a tiny phone because I couldn't afford a computer. I worked jobs that left my body exhausted but my mind still hungry for more. Then the world changed. Artificial intelligence arrived. For everyone else, it was another invention. For me, it became the teacher I had always prayed for. This is not a story about overnight success. It is about years of failure, curiosity, heartbreak, sacrifice, impossible decisions, sleepless nights, impossible dreams, and one young man desperately trying to earn something that cannot be bought. A name for himself. Sometimes the greatest journey is not finding your purpose. It is surviving long enough to become it.