I haven't always had the determination or perspective you see in my posts today. Looking back, I realise that while I can't change my past, I can heal and ensure I don't become someone I'm not proud of. A big part of that journey involved unlearning things I once thought were normal.

During my primary and high school years, I was interested in many things but didn't hold strong opinions. Even when I attended the University of New South Wales for my Bachelor of International Studies, I had little interest in the politics they tried to teach us. The pro-capitalist stance in my International Business major didn't resonate with me, but I didn't seek out alternative viewpoints either. It all just was what it was.

Working in the alumni department after graduation, I didn't think much about the efforts to woo wealthy former students for fundraising. I was generally apathetic, shrugging off questionable and immoral practices that society deemed normal. Maybe it was because my personal life was in shambles. Without supportive relationships or positive role models in my family, I was so focused on surviving that I didn't have the emotional energy to consider the bigger picture.

In hindsight, I'm more than a bit unsettled by how much the education system I went through upheld the status quo. But by the time I started to care about how the world works, I was no longer a student in that system.

When did this shift happen? I can't pinpoint an exact moment, but somewhere along the line, my apathy began to melt away. I developed a deeper desire to understand the world beyond the surface-level knowledge offered in classrooms. For that, I can thank those closest to me who were going through their own personal revolutions. It's like having a gym buddy but for the mind—a person who keeps you motivated and inspired, sharing the journey with you.

The more I read and learned, the more I began to view the world through a critical lens. Certain books accelerated my understanding—these titles come to mind—but it was a gradual process that required time and effort. There were moments when the weight of this new knowledge felt overwhelming. It bothered me how hopeless things seemed and how powerless I felt to enact positive change.

Seeing people give up and become bitter at the world made me angry, too. I strive not to become one of those people because I've witnessed firsthand how that mindset corrodes from within.

Perhaps my caution comes from spending too much time around individuals who weren't exactly shining examples of integrity. I've known those who become insufferably arrogant with even a hint of success, others who harbour bitterness toward anyone more successful than themselves, and the two-faced who say things behind your back they'd never say to your face. I've also encountered those who manipulate the truth through technicalities, skirting honesty while claiming to despise liars.

Sometimes these people were unavoidable—family members when I was too young to leave, relatives of someone I was dating, coworkers, or friends of friends. Other times, I could have avoided them, but my naive younger self took them at face value instead of reading between the lines. Distancing myself from such people has always been challenging, but I've learned to appreciate what's truly important.

My quest for knowledge wasn't limited to political economy; I delved into physics, chemistry, biology, history, culture, warfare, psychology, engineering—you name it. Through these studies, I realised how crucial it is to have a broad base of knowledge, especially in history.

Anyone who says history is boring hasn't really explored it. At times, it's more absurd and dramatic than anything in popular movies or series. When we move beyond simplistic notions of good and evil, the nuances and lessons we can learn are vast.

History also shows how much of a struggle it has been to advance knowledge. Many things we take for granted today are the result of great minds fighting uphill battles.

It took most of my life to get here, but I'm now confident enough in myself that if someone accuses me of not trying hard enough, I know they're full of shit. I can recognise when someone is arguing in bad faith or hasn't put thought into their point. I can tell when someone selectively listens and filters out what they don't want to hear.

Ultimately, there wasn't a single thing that brought me to where I am now—it's the culmination of years of effort. It's a combination of never giving up and surrounding myself with people who are more than just warm bodies filling a social quota.

I want to help others do the same. I can't live anyone else's life for them, but I can be a guide. After all, we're all navigating this complex world together, and if I can share a map or point out a pitfall, why wouldn't I?