A letter from Oct 21, 2025

To the man I’ll become in one year. Right now, I’m holding on to dreams that feel heavier than my pockets. My phone — cracked, tired, fading — is the only bridge between me and my future. Sometimes the screen goes blank, just like my days… but I still restart it, because quitting isn’t an option. I used my last coins not to eat, but to build. A $5k funded account. $11 in my personal one. It’s small, but it carries the weight of everything I’ve ever wanted. People may not understand, and maybe they don’t have to. They don’t see the nights I sit here, staring at charts, whispering to myself, “One day, this will all make sense.” I’m not rich yet — but I’m rich in hunger. I’m not there yet — but I’m on my way. Every loss teaches me. Every delay strengthens me. Every time my phone crashes, I remind myself: "If I can restart this phone, I can restart my life." One year from now, I’ll be different. Stronger. Wiser. Unstoppable. And when I finally look back, I’ll whisper through a smile — "This was where the storm turned into strength.