My Journey So Far

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while.
Not because I have it all figured out. I don’t. Far from it.
But because every story has a beginning, and this... this is mine.

The boy who broke things

I was always that kid. The one who touched every button. The one who pressed “yes” when the computer clearly said “are you sure ?” The one who opened the back of the remote just to see the batteries.

Curiosity was my first habit. Breaking things was my second.

Whenever I messed up the computer (and it happened more times than I would like to admit it) someone from outside had to come to fix it. For most kids, that would be the scary part. For me, it was the best part.

I’d wait at the gate like a kid waits for candy. Not because I wanted my computer fixed (though I did). But because I wanted to see how.

This guy would walk in, sit down at the desk, and his fingers would fly. Keys clicking like music. Windows popping open and shutting in a blur. Sometimes he’d open the CPU, take something out, stare at it, blow on it like a priest with incense, put it back, and... boom it worked.

To me, that was magic.
Better than any superhero movie.
Better than any trick.

That’s when I learned my first big lesson: breaking something is never the end. Sometimes it’s the beginning.

The art of messing around

I never learned the “proper” way to do things. Still haven’t.

Tutorials bored me. Classes felt slow. I’d rather click the wrong button and see what happened. I’d rather delete a folder I wasn’t supposed to and spend the night figuring out how to get it back.

Mess around. Break stuff. Figure it out. That was my way.
It still is.

I think that’s the best way to learn anything. When you’re too careful, you never see what’s possible. When you’re reckless, you see everything. You fail fast. You laugh. You panic. You fix. And somewhere in between, you learn.

Age twelve. First lines of code.

By the time I was 12, curiosity needed a new outlet. Breaking the computer wasn’t enough. I wanted to make something.

So I found code.

It started simple. Little programs. Ugly lines of Java. Copy-paste experiments. But slowly, they began to shape into things. Real things.

My first real creation was an Android app. I didn’t build it to change the world. I built it because I had a phone but no SIM card. Which meant no WhatsApp. Which meant no chatting. And that was unacceptable.

So I made my own. A full chat app. With a little server, messages bouncing back and forth. My own little WhatsApp clone.

And in my head, it wasn’t just a clone... it was better.
Part of me still believes that.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t polished. But it worked. And for a 12-year-old, that was enough. That was more than enough.

Building instead of buying

That became my new rhythm: don’t complain, build. Don’t accept, replace.

Spotify with ads ? No thanks. I’ll make my own streaming platform.
Wanted a social media app ? Sure, I’ll build one.
Needed an e-commerce store ? Let me spin that up too.

Every problem became an excuse to create. Every gap was an opportunity.

And sometimes, I laughed at myself. Who in their right mind thinks about making a microprocessor from scratch? Me. That’s who. Did I know how ? Not really. But that didn’t stop the thought.

The spark that never left

People often ask: “Why do you spend so much time building when there are already apps for everything ?”

Because I can’t help it.
Because every time I see a limitation, my brain asks: What if ?
Because I believe in a future I can’t fully see yet but I know it’s worth trying to create.

That curiosity from childhood ? It never left. It grew.

The nights no one sees

Of course, this all sounds neat when written out. But it wasn’t always.

There were nights of frustration. Days when the code broke and refused to work. Days when I felt like maybe I wasn’t cut out for this. When bugs felt bigger than me.

But those nights shaped me more than any success.
Because it’s in the failures that you learn persistence. It’s in the errors that you learn patience. And it’s in the quiet, when no one is watching, that you find out who you really are.

And who I am is someone who can’t stop building.

Twenty years young

I’m 20 now. Which feels old to a 12-year-old me, and young to everyone else.

Looking back, it’s a blur of projects. Social networks. Music apps. Chat apps. E-commerce platforms. AI models. Some were small. Some were big. Some still make me proud. Some I’d rather not talk about. But all of them taught me something.

They taught me that creating is the best way to live. That every experiment, whether it works or not, is a step forward.

The dream

What am I working toward ?
A future. My future.

One where the tools I build actually help people. Where ideas turn into realities. Where curiosity isn’t something you grow out of, but something you grow into.

I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know how long it’ll take. But I know this: I’ll keep building until I find it.

Why I’m telling you this

Maybe you’re like me. Maybe you’ve broken a few things. Maybe you’ve felt that strange mix of fear and wonder when you look inside a machine. Maybe you’ve dreamed of building something, anything, that carries a piece of you into the world.

If yes... Welcome. You’re not alone.

This isn’t the end of the story. It’s not even the middle. It’s just where I am now. Twenty years in. A head full of ideas. A heart full of stubbornness. And a future I’m trying to catch up to.

So here it is. My journey. So far.

And trust me, this is only the beginning.