1. I had seen failure as something to be feared for most of my life. It was the nemesis, the one to avoid at all costs. I had been raised on the philosophy that success was achieved through getting it right the first time—passing every test, winning every game, never messing up. I had learned years of trying to be perfect, afraid that anything less would render me not good enough. But there was one experience that altered my perception of failure completely. It was my junior year. I was a good student always, but trigonometry was not my strong suit. No matter what I read, however many practice problems I did, I struggled with it. When the first major test was returned with a screaming F at the top, I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. I'd never failed a test in my life. I wanted to crumple it, hide it, pretend it never happened. I self-lashed over it for days. I even considered dropping the course, thinking I wasn't smart enough. But then something clicked. My teacher took me aside after class and said something I will never forget: "You're thinking about this all wrong. Failure is not the opposite of success—it's part of it." I didn't take him seriously at first. How could not succeeding be good? But I decided to stick in the class and do it differently. Instead of fearing mistakes, I started welcoming them. I asked more questions, learned from my errors, and embraced the fact that struggling wasn't incapability—it was growth. Before long, I started to see improvement. My grades gradually improved, but more significantly, my attitude changed. I no longer viewed failure as an end but as a learning experience. I came to understand that some of the greatest people who had ever lived had failed, at times spectacularly, before achieving success. Edison had failed thousands of times before the invention of the light bulb. Michael Jordan was dropped from his high school basketball team before becoming one of the all-time greats. If they could fail and survive, why couldn't I? By the end of the year, I had raised my grade. But what I learned most importantly was not a better grade—it was a different attitude. I don't let fear of failure control me anymore. I started thinking about it more as a steppingstone, something that could potentially make me stronger if I would just let it. Now that I look back, I realize that failing that test was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. It showed me that success isn't about never falling—it's about getting up. 4. I don’t remember much of the day when I found out that I had leukemia. I was four years old, too young to understand what was happening, too young to know how my world would be altered. But I remember the hospital room, the antiseptic scent of disinfectants, and how my mother's voice shook as she told me that everything would be okay. I did not know then, but that day started a struggle that would shape me into the person I am. Childhood cancer was not at all like it is in the movies. No inspirational speeches or triumphal moments. It was just about getting through a day at a time—chemo, hospitalization, many needles, and always doubt. My childhood was counted in cycles of treatment and in the number of days I was in a hospital bed instead of in school or playing outside. By the age of 7 I was in remission and life began to feel worth living. I was finally able to experience life along with my peers at a school like a normal kid. The hard battle was finally won, and I could breathe. As I got older, of course I asked my mother more and more about my treatment, and every new detail intrigued me. I’ve learned to love my past, and not only be proud of my past, but also share my story with others. Sometimes I look back on the days I was hospitalized and believe that that diagnosis changed everything about me. Who would I be had I never had cancer? Would I still be introverted, would I still have a a strange craving for hospital food, would I still have a high tolerance for needles, or would I still have the same friends I have now for having to get put back a grade due to treatments. There's so much about myself I question in relevance to myself and my childhood, but I think that's the beauty of it. Everyone's story is different, but mine has become something that has formed me into the man you see before you. I've overcome something that can be seen as challenge, a battle within myself, and that feeling alone means the world to me.