I shut the car door, sat down, buckled my seatbelt, quiet. Not a peaceful or calm quiet, but rather one that was overwhelmingly agonizing. “Failure...not good enough…embarrassing…never again,” I thought repeatedly in my head. I constantly replayed the loss, and it felt more painful each time. I looked out the window as silent tears streamed down my face. No one could know how bad it hurt. No one could understand how weak, small, and powerless I felt at that moment. The only reasonable solution to the pain was - to win. Not to “give a good effort” or “try my best” - to win. In that car on February Eighteenth, Twenty-Seventeen, I decided that I would be the Missouri State Robotics Champion this time next year. The goal that I yearned for would require hours of hard work and dedication, something I couldn’t do through my school program, given limited practice time. I needed time to design, build, start over, re-design, program, debug, practice driving and develop strategy. Over that summer, I spent hours each day teaching myself the basics of programming and building. Finding something that worked took the least amount of time; finding the countless things that didn’t work furthered my knowledge in robotics. In the first tournament of my 8th-grade season, we swept the field, winning the two most prestigious awards while competing against high schoolers. As the season progressed, I changed the design of the robot to score faster and compete at a higher level. Competing against the same teams one month before state, I was humbled. It was clear that a change needed to be made. Time and effort were abundant, but the essential part I was missing was collaboration. Before this point in the season, I didn’t interact or talk with other teams. Once I reached out for help, I made instrumental changes to the robot that drastically improved my performance. That month flew by, long nights with little sleep and still balancing school work. My mom would drive me to school to allow me to sleep 20 minutes longer than taking the bus. I could see the worry in my parent’s eyes as they watched me work myself to exhaustion. The drive, the very same one I took a year prior, except this time I wasn’t in agony, rather a pure state of bliss. I had done it. I was the Missouri State Robotics Champion. As the lone member of my team, I designed, built, programmed, networked, fundraised, and documented everything. However, I was surprised that even though I had won the state championship, I still wanted more. This would require adding teammates, stronger collaboration, and the drive that led to my early success. “I” became “we” with new teammates, and this became the story of the four-time (2018-2021) Missouri State Champions - Dark Knight Robotics (Vex #46535K). With time, the state championship became more of an expectation rather than an achievement. As a result, I wanted something bigger, the World Championship. Never satisfied, without a finish line in sight, is how I live my life. There will always be a time and place to enjoy what I have worked so hard to achieve. However, I am intoxicated by the idea that there is no finish line. My continuous intellectual and physical growth journey has led me to build healthy habits that anchor on small improvements every day. Balancing my competitive instincts with healthy relationships and experiences leads to a rich foundation that I intend to expand exponentially through my college career.

I shut the car door, sat down, buckled my seatbelt, quiet. Not a peaceful or calm quiet, but rather one that was overwhelmingly agonizing. “Failure...not good enough…embarrassing…never again,” I thought repeatedly in my head. I constantly replayed the loss, and it felt more painful each time. I looked out the window as silent tears streamed down my face. No one could know how bad it hurt. No one could understand how weak, small, and powerless I felt at that moment. The only reasonable solution to the pain was - to win. Not to “give a good effort” or “try my best” - to win. In that car on February Eighteenth, Twenty-Seventeen, I decided that I would be the Missouri State Robotics Champion this time next year. The goal that I yearned for would require hours of hard work and dedication, something I couldn’t do through my school program, given limited practice time. I needed time to design, build, start over, re-design, program, debug, practice driving and develop strategy. Over that summer, I spent hours each day teaching myself the basics of programming and building. Finding something that worked took the least amount of time; finding the countless things that didn’t work furthered my knowledge in robotics. In the first tournament of my 8th-grade season, we swept the field, winning the two most prestigious awards while competing against high schoolers. As the season progressed, I changed the design of the robot to score faster and compete at a higher level. Competing against the same teams one month before state, I was humbled. It was clear that a change needed to be made. Time and effort were abundant, but the essential part I was missing was collaboration. Before this point in the season, I didn’t interact or talk with other teams. Once I reached out for help, I made instrumental changes to the robot that drastically improved my performance. That month flew by, long nights with little sleep and still balancing school work. My mom would drive me to school to allow me to sleep 20 minutes longer than taking the bus. I could see the worry in my parent’s eyes as they watched me work myself to exhaustion. The drive, the very same one I took a year prior, except this time I wasn’t in agony, rather a pure state of bliss. I had done it. I was the Missouri State Robotics Champion. As the lone member of my team, I designed, built, programmed, networked, fundraised, and documented everything. However, I was surprised that even though I had won the state championship, I still wanted more. This would require adding teammates, stronger collaboration, and the drive that led to my early success. “I” became “we” with new teammates, and this became the story of the four-time (2018-2021) Missouri State Champions - Dark Knight Robotics (Vex #46535K). With time, the state championship became more of an expectation rather than an achievement. As a result, I wanted something bigger, the World Championship. Never satisfied, without a finish line in sight, is how I live my life. There will always be a time and place to enjoy what I have worked so hard to achieve. However, I am intoxicated by the idea that there is no finish line. My continuous intellectual and physical growth journey has led me to build healthy habits that anchor on small improvements every day. Balancing my competitive instincts with healthy relationships and experiences leads to a rich foundation that I intend to expand exponentially through my college career.

I have played baseball for four years at my high school, and over that time, I became very close with my pitching coach. Coincidentally, he also is fascinated with the stock market and worked for a hedge fund on Wall Street. The one tip he gave me over four years of conversation is to "go all in." While this sounds outlandish, he explained it. "If you have done your research, put in the time and hours, and you trust your gut, go for it." From a more technical standpoint, this meant roughly 20% of your portfolio is allocated to options trading, 40% long positions, and 40% in bonds and mutual funds. While this doesn't sound risky, much of the 80% equity is required to make large option trades. This means that if trades made without limits fail, much of my account would be liquidated. He told me also that "If your right and didn't go all in, you will kick yourself about the money you lost playing it safe." Since hearing his advice, I have a applied his advice not only to my trading but also my life; Living every day to the fullest and "going all in."