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Inspiration

Headline FB Picture

I made mistakes in my life that I cannot change. I hope readers can learn from my mistakes. Here is my story:

I didn't fall for a picture. I fell for a smile.

Before I was born, my mom wanted a daughter. She prepared all girls' clothing. For Halloween, I was a Pink Power Ranger. In many ways, I was raised as if I were a girl. This has caused me to lose out on love.

In Grade 7, I was in love with a girl. She had the most beautiful freckles. I was too shy to talk to her, so every day after school I would hop onto MSN to talk to her.

It was the same year my parents took me to Disney World during Christmas break. We traveled by car, and on our way there we stayed at my parents' friend's house in New Jersey. I was so happy when I got $50. I spent the entire $50 on a stuffed tiger at Disney World. I didn't like stuffed animals, but I thought she would. I took good care of the tiger until Valentine's Day.

There was a snowstorm on Valentine's Day that year, but I carried that stuffed tiger to school, only to find that the school was closed. The very next day, during lunchtime, I gave the tiger to the girl and quickly retreated to my classroom.

To my dismay, my friends told me she called me gay right after I left. I stopped talking to her after that.

I Googled, "Why do girls not like nice guys?"

I was a nice guy.

This led me to a world of pickup artists. I was young and naive, and I listened to and followed their advice.

One of them mentioned success a lot and said that investment bankers make a lot of money. I worked hard in school. I managed to get into Western's business school as an Advanced Entry Opportunity student.

I didn't get into Western the right way. I retook Grade 12 English. I had correctly guessed the final exam's essay question, except the characters were different, and I had prepared a plagiarized essay from the Internet. I told the teacher I had misread the characters, and she accepted my essay. In my application to the Ivey Business School, I greatly exaggerated my achievements in one of my activities to gain AEO status.

I wasn't myself there. It was a time I could reinvent myself and finally be somebody. I bragged a lot on an online forum even though I knew nothing. I thought that to be somebody, you've got to let people know. I thought that's how you make friends.

I fell in love with another girl during my time at Western. I saw a Facebook picture of her. She had the most genuine smile. She smiled with her eyes. I was in love.

It started prior to my arriving on Western's campus. I had made a post on an online student forum about girls at Western. She was one of them.

A roommate at Western made a bet with me that I could not get her phone number. I had no friends in high school. At Western, I could finally be somebody. I deliberately bought a leather jacket and an army jacket because I believed they were the most attractive and would make the best impression.

I knew she was part of a club at Western since I also interviewed with them but didn't get in. One of the FROSH leaders was part of the club and had told me the club's executive meeting spot. I went. I tried to approach her in an aggressive manner because I thought bad boys attract. I watched anime as a kid, and I realized the boys that the girls liked weren't the nicest around. They liked Levi Ackerman. They liked Sebastian Michaelis. I could go on. But in my heart, I believe love always wins in the end.

This led me to receive a warning from campus police to have no contact with her. By then I was ostracized at Western. People I wanted to be friends with were understandably ignoring my messages and avoiding me.

I emailed her after a couple of months went by and was placed on probation. After more months passed, I approached one of her friends, and I was suspended from Western. I should have let her go then.

They say, "If you truly love something, you should set it free."

Instead, I called her previous workplace asking for her phone number while pretending to be a police officer. I shouldn't have done that.

I continued to subtweet her. I was subtweeting her the entire time. I was in pain because I had fallen in love with someone I couldn't talk to. My grades were bad. I resorted to using my cellphone in some of my exams to pass. I was finally charged with criminal harassment and was given a conditional discharge.

My parents hired a lawyer. I later read an article about a previous client of that lawyer in which the client complained that she won the case but ultimately lost because the legal fees were higher than the award.

That lawyer told me not to go back to Western and to apply somewhere else. I applied to UBC's business school at the last minute because my dad had moved to Vancouver. I omitted my Western transcript from my application. Unfortunately, I was accepted and attended.

I couldn't live without the girl I loved at Western. I was mad. During the summer before attending UBC, I rented a Fiat and raced it against a Lamborghini through the mountains at 2:00 a.m. I once got into a fight, and I lost the front part of my teeth. I realized I could never throw a real punch at someone I never intended to hurt. I was banned from the clubs and bars in Granville after a security guard put me on the pavement for trying the Kino Escalation technique I learned in the pickup community. I once lightly tapped a girl's butt. I once put my tongue against a girl's cheek for a photo op. I have deep regret and am greatly embarrassed by my actions.

In September 2015, I enrolled at UBC. I voluntarily withdrew after finishing one semester. I was immensely stressed. Some strands of my hair turned white. In my mind, my academic career was over, and nobody was going to hire me.

This stress landed me in the hospital a total of 6 times between 2015 and 2024. It was always the same reason: I was fearful that my dad was going to hurt me. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia.

I may have been misdiagnosed with schizophrenia because the DSM-5 requires two or more symptoms to be present. I never experienced hallucinations, disorganized speech, catatonic behavior, or negative symptoms.

I believe mental health is important, but mental illness diagnoses are subjective. There is no blood test or MRI scan that can evidently determine if you have a mental illness or not. The mental health community can do better.

The medication I was put on made me gain a lot of weight and made me tired all the time. It wasn't until three years later in 2018 that I had enough courage to voluntarily confess that I had committed academic dishonesty. Luckily, no disciplinary action was taken against me, and I was allowed to apply for readmission to UBC.

I decided it wasn't right for me to go back.

I was alone and suffering. I posted an Instagram post on the victim's Instagram page saying, "They say people are made up of their life experiences. Well, my world turned upside down. I do odd jobs that nobody wants—like digging a ditch—because that's the only job I can get. Right now, I work overnights. People treat me like I'm subhuman. Nobody cares.

I want to think the world is cruel, but that hurts me inside because I'm actually a really nice person. Maybe I deserve to be a criminal, but I never threatened you, followed you, swore at you, spoke face to face with you, touched you, or even nowadays checked your Insta stories.

Unlike you, I don't have a support system. I am alone. So I have to get this out of my system. If you want to incriminate me for this post, then so be it. I think I am what the world needs. When everyone is interested only in themselves and advancing themselves, I'm putting myself in danger and wasting my time.

This is my last comment to you. I was delusional in thinking I could at least make friends with you at school. I am a living, breathing person too. I still have a future. I hope you at least don't hate me." I was expecting the police to show up, and when they didn't, a few more emails and messages followed. I got charged with criminal harassment again. I was given a Peace Bond.

I went on to attend Sheridan College in 2022.

I got good grades and won 2 awards. However, I have 6 withdrawals on my transcript prior to dropping out, which now accounts for 12. I had trouble accepting reality. I wanted a perfect transcript to get into Stanford. In my opinion, a withdrawal without a good reason is worse than a fail. It means you aren't willing to face your failure—you're trying to hide it. I could have blamed the side effects of the medication I was taking for my poor performance, but I should have still faced the result head-on.

I worked as a food support worker at Sheridan College where I was part of a team that handed out 70,000+ pounds of food hampers to more than 2,000 students in need. I just did my job. Didn't really exceed my job duties. I watched as students came and went one by one. They told me stories about the basement that they shared with more than 10 other people. I saw the dozens of thank-you sticky notes on the whiteboard. I felt great gratitude to have become part of something special even if I was a small part of it.

One of the students at Sheridan needed a spot in a class I was enrolled in because it was online and one of his relatives was dying. If I hadn't given up my spot to the class, he would had to delay his graduation and incur thousands of more dollars in tuition fees. Nobody was willing to give up their spot because it was in a notoriously hard to earn high marks course due the professors teaching that course. The professor in that spot was the only fair marker. I took the fall.

I sent a farewell message on LinkedIn to someone close to the victim. It was a message wishing the person a happy and successful life. I felt happy for them. I shouldn't have done that even if my intentions were good. Only now do I realize it was how long this has been going on for and my defiance of the warnings not to contact her that created the fear.

I applied to Stanford twice and withdrew my application twice. I didn't think I'd get in or even deserved to go.

During my last term at Sheridan College, I dropped out and was hospitalized because I was suffering. I was fearful of my dad again. My fear was stress-induced.

My doctor said, "The medication I was on promoted gambling behavior." I became about $25,000 in debt from borrowing money and then gambling over the years.

I am afraid that I will become more in debt if the court requires me to reimburse the creditor for its court costs, legal fees, and pre- and post-judgment interest.

I was young and naive, but I loved deeply. Back then, my emotions weren't filtered through fear or shame; they were raw, honest, and intense. I didn't yet know how the world could break you, how easily good intentions could go wrong, or how hard it is to undo the harm you've caused.

I still cry, I still laugh, I still smile, but those moments feel more controlled, more calculated, as if I'm assessing the consequences of my actions and words. Some might say that's maturity—that I've grown up, taken responsibility, accepted the consequences. And maybe they're right.

The 18- or 19-year-old me, he didn't always know better, but he felt everything so fully. I am sorry to the girl I harassed. I am sorry to the applicant I butted in front of the line for Western's business school and for UBC's business school.

I am sorry to everyone I have hurt. I cannot change the past, but I can change the future. I learned to respect people's boundaries. Boundaries aren't just lines; they are walls you shouldn't go over.

Being nice isn't always about acting on good intentions; it is about inaction and respecting the other person's silence.

Sometimes love isn't about being with someone—it is about seeing him or her happy, even from afar. It is never too late to do the right thing.

I learned that happiness comes from counting your lucky stars.

I am trying to move on with my life.

I am hoping you'll help me move.

I've made serious mistakes. But I'm committed to turning my life around. I'm currently homeless. Unfortunately, I've accumulated over $25,000 in debt—some of it due to gambling side effects from medication I was prescribed, some of it due to missteps. A lawyer representing one of the creditors is now demanding I pay $2,724.55 immediately or face legal proceedings. I'm afraid I'll spiral deeper into debt if I can't repay.

In 2015, I buried a sorry letter beneath a tree somewhere in Stanley Park. The letter may be forgotten; the words may be lost but I still have hope for a second chance at life.

For years I carried a diagnosis that never felt like the whole truth.

After multiple hospital stays, weight-gain side-effects, I learned that psychiatric labels often depend on brief snapshots, and simplified, trigger-happy analysis. Good intentions can still miss crucial context—and the person behind the chart is left to pick up the pieces.

I also know what it feels like to cause harm. The remorse is real, and the lessons fuel everything I build today.

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What it does

askboba is an AI mental health diagnosis review system where doctors can upload or directly type up the clinical notes and records for the AI to analyze and identify patterns and risks and provide diagnosis, treatment, medication, action, and timeline recommendations.

How I built it

I used Bolt to build askboba. The only exception is when I used Claude Opus 4 to tell me the best APIs to use and to code up a .env file for my project.

Challenges I ran into

I have not faced many technical challenges using Bolt AI to create my project.

Accomplishments that I am proud of

In the process of building askboba, I overcome my fear of approaching strangers. I started an Instagram account, a TikTok account, and a Twitter account.

Instagram: link TikTok: link Twitter: link

What I learned

I learned that if the Supabase database isn't working, you should prompt the Bolt AI to reset the database and simplify the solution. Also, I learned when Bolt AI is stuck in an error loop, you should prompt the Bolt AI to think of a different solution to the problem—to think outside the box. That prompt worked for me.

I also created a series of short form videos on TikTok and Instagram which some were deleted. The videos detailed me overcoming my fear of approaching people and learning how to do better sales pitches. I learned that many people are uncomfortable with being filmed on camera.

What's next for askboba

I don’t know…

Built With

• huggingface
• mammoth.js
• openai
• pdf.js
• postgresql
• react
• tailwind
• umls