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I came to the United States to be free and discover who I really am.

At first, I thought freedom meant escaping — from the weight of my past, from systems that demanded conformity, from the background noise that stifled me. I chased excellence like it would save me. I built myself as a scientist, as an artist, as a mind always running to the light or running from the dark. I dove into computational biology & cancer genomics and then neuroscience, thinking maybe if I could decode life at its smallest scale, I could decode everything around me — including my true self.

But freedom isn’t escape... it’s confrontation. It's waking up to who you are even when it hurts. It’s holding your neurodivergence and saying: yes, this is also me. It’s admitting that brilliance doesn’t erase pain. That productivity isn’t identity. That survival isn't the same as living.

Over the past three years, I totally burned out, broke down, stood up again. I faced discrimination, alienation, and internal collapse. I kept creating even when I was falling apart. And slowly, painfully, I began to meet myself.

I’m still learning who I am. A researcher who loves beauty. A woman who doesn’t fit the mold. A survivor. An alien. A system breaker. A mind that sees in layers, even when it doesn’t want to perceive. A person in the deep, destructive process of exploring the universe backwards — from collapse toward meaning.

This is my American story. Definitely not a dream, but a reckoning. I don't know what these mean. But they keep me real. Nice to meet you!