I’m the kind of person who treasures fragments of time—light on a window, footsteps after dusk, the quiet hum of a familiar street. 
Through my camera, I archive the small moments that make life feel real.

《 This is for my English B》

The instructor said,

Go home and write

a page tonight.

And let that page come out of you—

Then, it will be true.



I wonder if it’s that simple?

I’m eighteen now, newly an adult,

still learning what it means to grow without a script.

Not familiar with the family and not knowing the neighbors

I entrust my faith to the school

When my body  first hit the stage floor with a loud thud,

It woke the half-asleep audience,

pulled laughter from a quiet room,

and for a moment, I felt their eyes

like cornflowers blooming toward me.

That fall wasn’t a mistake;

it was part of the act, practiced and intentional.

it was my first lesson in pretending,

in borrowing courage before I truly owned it.



It’s not easy to know what is true for you or me.

Offstage, life felt heavier.

I pretended to like everything—piano, painting, reading—

but none of them felt like home.

Still, each attempt pulled me out of a comfort zone

that once looked like endless waiting.

Middle school changed me.

Debate sharpened my voice,

and drama taught me how How to become a successful person.

Pretending slowly turned into becoming.

I earned straight A’s,

won a High Academic Award,

and ranked top three nationwide in computer science.

But identity is more than achievements.

It’s my vanilla ice cream,

my life song “SOS,”

and my love for Dead Poets Society.

It’s the dream of becoming a game designer,

a hope that keeps running forward.

I dream of watching a volcano erupt in Guatemala at sunset,

and walking home with friends after evening study.

Now I trust I can be—

I am who I’m meant to be.

This is me.



This is my page for English B