The first language I learned was not English or Burmese. It was the language of responsibility. I learned it sitting beside my parents, translating words they could not understand and explaining things I was sometimes still learning myself. I learned it in waiting rooms, at school meetings, on phone calls, and in offices where a form could determine whether my family received the help we needed. I was a child learning how to make two worlds understand each other. My parents came to America carrying more than luggage. They carried the memories of a home they had been forced to leave, the uncertainty of starting again, and the hope that their children would have opportunities they never had. As refugees from Myanmar, they had to build a life in a country whose language, systems, and culture were unfamiliar. My parents worked hard to give our family stability, but I watched how often they had to navigate systems that were never designed with people like us in mind. Growing up, I began to understand that opportunity is not simply about being given a door. Sometimes, you first need someone to explain where the door is, how to open it, and what is on the other side. That realization shaped the way I see the world. It is also why I am pursuing neuroscience and psychology and working toward becoming a neurologist. I do not want to study the brain simply because it is fascinating, although it is. I am drawn to the brain because behind every scan, seizure, memory loss, or diagnosis is a person whose life has been changed by what is happening inside their body. Today, I work in a video EEG monitoring unit, where I observe patients experiencing seizures and neurological events. There are moments when the monitors are quiet and moments when everything changes within seconds. I have learned to pay attention to the smallest details because sometimes those details are part of a much larger story. But my family taught me something that medicine cannot be reduced to a monitor or a diagnosis: a patient is never just a diagnosis. I think about my parents when I see families trying to understand medical information. I know what it feels like when complicated words become barriers. I know what it means to be the person in the room who helps a family understand what is happening. One day, I want to be the physician who not only understands the science but also makes sure patients feel understood. My career aspiration is to become a neurologist and eventually create a space where advanced neurological care, research, and compassion exist together. I especially want to serve communities that are often overlooked, including immigrant and refugee families who may face language, financial, or cultural barriers to healthcare. My parents crossed borders so their children could dream beyond survival. I carry that sacrifice with me every time I walk into a classroom, a laboratory, or a hospital. They taught me that education is more than a way to build a career. It is a way to turn sacrifice into possibility. I am not trying to escape where I came from. I am building from it. And one day, when another family sits in a hospital room trying to understand what is happening to someone they love, I hope I can be the person who helps make the unfamiliar feel a little less frightening.

When people ask what I want to build, they expect an answer grounded in today's world. My answer is inspired by tomorrow's. I want to build what I call a "Living Constellation"—a network of interactive public spaces that blend art, engineering, and emerging technology to reconnect people with creativity, science, and each other. Imagine walking through a city park at night. Above you, thousands of intelligent light structures respond to movement, weather, and sound. A child reaches toward a glowing star, and an entire galaxy appears overhead. An artist can project stories into the sky. A scientist can visualize climate data as living constellations. Musicians can transform melodies into rivers of light that flow through public spaces. What feels like science fiction would actually be a fusion of engineering, design, renewable energy systems, and community participation. This vision was born from a question that has always fascinated me: why do our cities inspire efficiency but rarely inspire wonder? Throughout history, great civilizations built monuments that reflected their dreams and values. Today, we have incredible technology, yet many public spaces feel disconnected from imagination. I want to help change that. Through higher education, I hope to develop the skills necessary to combine multiple disciplines that are often separated—engineering, computer science, environmental design, and artistic storytelling. My goal is not simply to create beautiful structures but to create experiences that encourage curiosity. A teenager might discover a passion for physics after interacting with a light installation. An aspiring artist might see technology as a creative tool rather than a barrier. Entire communities could gather around shared experiences instead of isolated screens. The impact extends beyond inspiration. The Living Constellation would be powered by sustainable technologies and designed to adapt to community needs. Educational institutions could use it for immersive learning. Local artists could showcase their work. Engineers and creators could collaborate on projects that transform public spaces into centers of innovation. Rather than consuming culture, communities would actively create it. Building this future would also transform my own life. It would allow me to dedicate my career to solving technical challenges while preserving the human need for creativity and connection. I believe the next generation's greatest achievements will come from people who can bridge science and art rather than choosing between them. I do not simply want to build a product. I want to build places where imagination becomes infrastructure. If successful, future generations will look up at their cities the way previous generations looked up at the stars—with curiosity, possibility, and a belief that anything can be created.