A BROKEN PEN, AN EMPTY WALLET AND A BAG FULL OF IDEAS.

I still dream about my past, dreams about things going wrong when it mattered the most. For instance that one time when the district office hid my school selections so that I could not go to the best school for secondary education or that one time when I travelled to a new city without any means of communication, just to chase a scholarship with 0.03% chance. When I have these dreams I wake up and thank God for reality. Also, I have been through days in which I ask myself the most obvious question, “is this the only reality I have?” After that, I shake my head to see if I am not dreaming, and then I wish it was just a dream. However, moments like these come to pass, thanks to time and resilience.?

I was born to two farmers in a family of seven children. I have had humble beginnings in my life which I am still proud of. I agree with whoever said, ‘something is better than nothing’. At a young age I struggled in school, I was slow and didn’t want the tiniest responsibility. But then when I turned 7 things just clicked, I wanted everything. So, I started spending time alone like I had agendas for meetings in my head. I was too young to be mentally disturbed by my failures but I guess it was a small infection that was never attended and has never cured. I still get flashbacks and an inner voice telling me that I am not so smart after all that I have accomplished. But then, you grow up and realize that being intelligent or not isn't utterly due to luck, but also the efforts you are willing to put in. As far as I know, it’s okay to feel but not believe everything I feel.?

I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I was born with a broken pen, and grew up with an empty wallet. Everyday I carry a bag of ideas delivering them to the places. Let me explain. My broken pen is the inability to express myself for natural factors. I am introverted in nature, I stutter and I grew up insecure. I could never have written my story if I didn’t fix my pen, someone would have to write it for me, which means controlling my life. I knew it is better to face my inner self and fix the things I could. On the other hand, I love wallets. When you grow up with little money, at first, you appreciate all the indicators of wealth and later when you grow up not having enough of it you curse materialism. That is still me and my empty wallet. But I am here today, gone to the same school with the richest kids in my home country, and now I am studying at a university in a first world country. I am lucky, people say. Personally, I have learnt a lesson, you do not need money and assurance and unlimited confidence to achieve much, you just need a bag of ideas. A bag is a mind, your mind and sometimes other people's advice. You need ideas, the thoughts that will help you know what to do with your life. I have used ideas as my tickets to places I wouldn’t pay for. Ideas to write a book, ideas to write songs, ideas on how to study effectively, advice on what to study for, on the list goes.?

People will help you for all reasons, good or bad, selfish or empathetic. If you are drowning, you don’t worry about the hand that stretches to save you. I am grateful for the trust and favour the na?ve me has found in front of many eyes. It is egoistic to think I would have made it without the help of others. I thank God that he gave me all I needed, not all I wanted.